


A Game of Cat and Mouse

by tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Cheese, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, Fluff, Humor, Insecurity, M/M, Past Abuse, Peril, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, fuck i honestly don't know what to tag this, generally bad romance writing lololololol, peril brings people closer together dontchaknow, so much cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-19 20:33:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 67,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13131630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land/pseuds/tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land
Summary: They're not friends, but maybe, in some instances, they could pass as such, or even just as acquaintances. Whatever the case, they're more than just friendly rivals.





	1. Never a Rose Without the Prick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why hello! It's been a little while since my last fic, and I figured: that last one was a real downer, so let's try again with something a little more upbeat!
> 
> That's... That's actually not the reason for this story's existence at all.
> 
> The actual reasoning is: I just really enjoy krazyshipping. I think their relationship in canon is quite unique, one that I don't see in many rival ships (or maybe I just haven't been paying attention to rival ships enough). I'm honestly not a huge fan of enemies-to-lovers or rival ships in general, but somehow this one just gets me with all the right feels
> 
> And I feel like there is a distinct lack of content for them (not to mention, like half the content that is out there makes Pikachu into a girl just to keep it he et er oo). So, I thought I might try and rectify that situation with a silly little jumble of random events that have mushed together to form a semi-coherent multichapter! Yayyy!!
> 
> Couple things, first off:  
> 1\. I tried something new with this story that I've never tried before: present tense! It's a technique I've been seeing a lot of people using in all the years I've been reading fanfiction, and I've been wanting to try it out for the longest time. And you know what? I really enjoyed it! I think I'll be continuing to use it in future fics :D  
> 2\. Like with Graveyard of Stars, I have this fic already written out in its entirety, and will post the chapters day by day. That way--no long waits and no hiatuses!!  
> 3\. Of course, because I like to shamelessly draw fanart for my own fanfiction, there are some doodles in here. THANKFULLY, they are a lot cleaner and look a lot nicer than the ones I used in GoS--like I just started rereading GoS just for shits and giggles, and by god those doodles are atrocious hooooly lord  
> 4\. I've said this before, and I'll say it again: I'm not too big on writing out full-blown accents. While there will be so m e apostrophes and word changes, the majority of it will have to be imagined  
> And 5. If you see any spelling errors or anything like that, please let me know so I can change it! It's a small thing, but spelling errors that I have shamefully overlooked bother the fuck out of me lol
> 
> ANYWAY, that's gone on long enough. Here's what you actually came here to read.
> 
> Each of these chapters take place in one of the regions of the pokeani journey, in chronological order (with the exception of the final chapter, which I'll get into when we reach it). This one takes place at an unspecified time in Kanto ^^

Love is in the air. So sweltry and saccharine, it's suffocating.

 

The streets of the little town Meowth has forgotten the name of are bustling with happy couples holding hands and sharing kisses. There are so many out and about, in fact, that he has to weave around a maze of them just to avoid being stepped on.

 

In the windows of the shops, he sees prepubescent boys buying their last-minute gifts, and plenty of groups traveling around in what he is sure are quadruple dates. He spots many loners sitting outside cafes, drinking coffee. Some pay no mind to the love-struck crowd around them. Others watch the cute twosomes with an air of envy.

 

Valentine's Day certainly does bring out a particular side of people.

 

Twitterpated, lovesick fools, like Jessie, relish in this time of year. Literal human disasters, like James, loathe it.

 

Meowth likes to consider himself as a happy little in-between. He loves the ripe possibilities of true love this day brings, all the chances he has to show off his suavest side to whatever lovely pokemon happened to be available.

 

In fact, in light of the occasion, he has dolled himself up by polishing his charm to be shinier than usual, slicking his fur with a fancy new shampoo (which, he now thinks, may have actually been mixed with hydrochloric acid, considering the slight burning sensation crawling about on his skin), and donning a shirt collar and cuff links, along with a silky black bow-tie.

 

There's no way anyone could resist a cool cat like him, not with this lavish get-up... Right?

 

Not quite, Meowth supposes. Halfway down the street from the dingy motel he and his human companions temporarily reside in, he has tried to make the acquaintance of at least three alluring cat pokemon, two of which traveled alongside trainers. But human or no human beside them, none of them seemed the least bit interested. Some let him down easy by informing him they already had plans for the day with their own true loves, while others told him in the 'kindest' way possible to get lost. To such responses, he leaves—a bit dejected, but still no less deterred.

 

Something has to be off, Meowth deduces. There's no reason why anybody shouldn't be absolutely smitten with him. Perhaps he could have sprayed on a few more puffs of perfume, or let Jessie paint his claws in a dazzling tangerine like she had offered before. He's missing something, that he's absolutely certain of, but he's not entirely sure what.

 

It eventually dawns on him with every new couple he sees. Everyone has something to hold, whether it be chocolate, or balloons, or cute little teddiursa bears. Or, most noticeably, flowers.

 

Roses, to be exact. Long-stemmed roses are held together in a bouquet or even planted in the long, luscious hair of every human girl he sees. Some guys even have the bright idea to adorn the flower to their fancy suits, flaunting it as an accessory to match their dates.

 

Why doesn't he have a pretty rose wedged behind his ear? He and his posse are specifically known for their overabundance of crimson and cobalt flowers—by all accounts, he should have at least _one_.

 

Then Meowth realizes that he convinced James to use all the roses they had to try to coax Jessie into a friendly, strictly 'platonic' date. Suddenly, he's ashamed at his failure to think ahead.

 

But that's no reason why he shouldn't have one at all. The shops are overflowing with the weeds, the plants begging to be cut loose from their life force and given to some lucky individual who will cherish them until their untimely demise. Surely Meowth could find a spare bouquet that had yet to find a home.

 

Only problem... He doesn't have the money to pay for a bouquet. Another oversight the cat kicks himself for.

 

Perhaps he didn't quite think this available-bachelor-on-Valentines-Day thing through.

 

No matter. There's still no reason why he cannot just make his own arrangement by picking the flowers from a garden on his own. The more he considers the idea, the better it sounds. Roses—and a whole other assortment of flowers, too—hand-picked and organized by the bachelor, himself. Much more considerate and love-filled than just buying them from a _store._

 

And if, for whatever reason, that doesn't work either, Meowth knows that some miserable, lonely, and depressed soul would be more than happy to forfeit their own, whether he asks or not.

 

He pads off down the trail to the gardens. Though Meowth cannot remember the name of the town for the life of him (if the twerps don't plan on staying in a single place for very long, then neither does Team Rocket), he must admit that he's enamored by its charm. Each window shines clear, the churches and shops giving off warm, radiating glows. As he passes by a bakery, his mouth waters at the delicious scent of freshly baked bread and cakes.

 

The cobblestone path leads to a vast and beautiful open field, where flowers are abundant and ripe for the picking. It takes him fifteen minutes just to find a place to start. Meowth's eyes are overwhelmed by the array of color, the spectrum of every shade and hue imaginable spread out across this vast ocean of plants. A pleasant aroma sneaks its way into his senses, and he can only imagine how lovely this place must smell to someone who actually has a nose.

 

As he reaches down to pluck up his first royal blue iris, he notices something moving in the grass path just ahead of him. He freezes, watching carefully, fearful that whatever the thing is could get the potential jump on him and ruin all of the work he has put into sprucing himself up. Perhaps it's a rattata, perhaps it's a flyaway of ledyba feasting on the delicacies before them, perhaps it's a pair of rowdy, hormone-driven teenagers having way too much fun with each other.

 

But to Meowth's surprise, a head of yellow adorned with red, rosy cheeks pops up from the grass, long, black-tipped ears twitching. He knows that visage like the back of his paw. He can identify the rodent without hesitation, and there is no denying in the fact that _this_ is the rodent he has chased after for the past half a year.

 

“Didn't expect to see you all out on your lonesome,” he says, a wide, toothy grin splitting his face.

 

Pikachu turns at the familiar voice quicker than Meowth anticipates. Without hesitation, he drops to all fours, electric sacs sparking wildly. Meowth is pretty sure he hears a growl emitting from deep in Pikachu's throat, and finds himself gulping and throwing his hands in the air.

 

“Relax, relax! I ain't here to pester you, honest!” he pleads.

 

Pikachu doesn't back down. “ _Then what_ _ **are**_ _you here for?”_

 

“Can't a guy just pick flowers just 'cause he wants to?” Meowth tries. He isn't lying, technically, but he doubts Pikachu will believe such a silly claim.

 

But Pikachu is a lot more forgiving than Meowth gives him credit for. He stops charging the electricity in his cheeks and slackens his tense form. He huffs, and gives Meowth one of the meanest side-eyes he has ever seen. “ _If you try_ _ **anything**_ _, I will_ _ **fry you.**_ _”_

 

Meowth drops his arms, a feeling of pride welling up in his chest at hearing Pikachu uttering such a threat. It may have been directed at himself, but Meowth would rather hear his adversary forewarn his life than act like everything is suddenly fine and dandy. He smirks. “Touch- _ee._ ”

 

Ignoring that remark, Pikachu goes back to whatever he was doing before Meowth interrupted him. Curious, Meowth sneaks a peek of his actions, taking note of the woven basket filled with freshly picked flowers. The basket only has a few to its name, and Pikachu plucks up a couple more and tosses them in.

 

He doesn't seem to be selecting any specific kind of flower over another, except for the fact that he only picks one of each. The basket fills with flower after flower, each more radically different than the last. Meowth becomes so intrigued by Pikachu's picking process that, in a moment, he forgets what he originally came here for.

 

“So where's you're twerpy trainer?” Meowth asks casually. “Youse two are usually inseparable.”

 

Pikachu takes a moment to glare at Meowth, his lack of tolerance at making conversation with his enemy evident in his narrowed eyes. “ _ **Ash**_ ,” he corrects, “ _is out getting groceries with Misty.”_

 

“You not interested in the produce section?”

 

Pikachu sighs with exasperation, shaking his head. “ _Brock's the one who sent them out._ _And he said he had some 'secret mission' for me while they're away, so he sent me out to pick a bunch of flowers. Don't ask me what he needs them for, 'cause I have no idea._ ”

 

Meowth plucks a lone blossom from its stem, twirling it around within his claws. He idly pulls off a single petal, watching as it floats to the ground without a care. “I don't hafta ask. I think it's pretty clear.”

 

“ _Huh?_ ”

 

Another petal is surrendered to the breeze. “He's tryin' to get 'em together.”

 

Pikachu stares, a clueless expression replacing his previous fluster. “ _They're together already. They went to the store together,_ ” he states.

 

A small laugh escapes the cat's throat. Meowth fakes wiping a tear from his eye, then points his half-naked flower towards Pikachu. “I mean _together,_ together.”

 

It finally clicks in Pikachu's noggin. His brow raises high for just a moment, then quickly lowers the second he spots Meowth smirking in accomplishment of having known something he didn't. He shakes his head. “ _But... why would he do that?_ ”

 

Meowth chuckles again. The silly ideas and questions Pikachu comes up with sometimes bring him such amusement. “It's the most commercially romantic and cheesy day of the year! Tall Twerp's doin' the exact same thing I'm doin' with Jess and Jim: sendin' them on a li'l exposition, alone, on the day couples find their true love and have a good time and all that mumbo-jumbo.” He takes a second to quirk a grin. “I think the better question is, 'why _wouldn't_ he do that?'”

 

“ _Because they hate each other,_ ” Pikachu answers without an ounce of hesitation.

 

Meowth has to stifle another laugh. “No they don't,” he replies. “Anyone with a pair a' eyes can see that they're sweet on each other.”

 

“ _But they fight_ _ **all the time**_ _.”_

 

“Maybe out in public,” Meowth continues. “Jessie and James fight all the time, too. They like to find the smallest, pettiest things to argue over. But when they're alone, they're total softies on each other. All that fightin's all just for show, see? They may not wanna admit it, but Jess and Jim—your twerpy trainer and the redhead, too—they was made for each other.”

 

Pikachu takes a moment to ponder over what Meowth has suggested. Point after point, he mulls over in his head, until he eventually ends up with the same attitude as he had before.

 

“ _So?_ ” Pikachu counters. “ _ **We**_ _fight all the time, and_ _ **we're**_ _not secretly in love._ ”

 

Something about that statement sends a jolting pain through Meowth's heart. He's not entirely sure why, though—Pikachu speaks the truth.

 

They're _not_ secretly in love. Meowth doesn't toss and turn at night, kept awake by dreams and thoughts over his next fateful meeting with the mouse. Pikachu doesn't dedicate his every battle to Meowth, thinking of him fondly every time they're apart (or if he does, he is _damn_ good at hiding it).

 

They don't meet in secret in the dead of night, away from trainers and partners and anyone else who might keep them apart, to watch the millions of stars float and twinkle in the sky. Pikachu doesn't lean his head against Meowth's shoulder, his eyes sparkling with tears from laughing about something so ridiculous and corny Meowth has said. Meowth doesn't lean his own noggin atop of Pikachu's, laughing along because he has to admit, that thing he said _was_ pretty damn corny.

 

They don't do any of that.

 

Because they're not secretly in love.

 

Meowth's shoulders slouch. Suddenly, Valentine's Day just got a whole lot lonelier, showing him the painful truth of just how pathetic his attempts at true love really are. He sighs, dropping the flower stem he has long since picked clean to the ground. “Yeah... Guess we're not.”

 

With a solemn frown, Meowth drops his rear to the soft grass, watching as Pikachu continues to aimlessly pick flowers. Once Meowth goes quiet, Pikachu continues on in his task as if he's not there at all. He plucks a blue flower from the ground, then a red one, then a couple of white and yellow ones. Most of the plants he picks are weeds disguised as flowers, but Pikachu either doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

 

Soon the basket is overflowing with gathered flowers. Pikachu shuffles them in a way so that none threaten to fall out. Once he gives a quick nod to himself, assuring that he is done, he wipes his paws off on each other and gets ready to leave.

 

“That's a pretty pathetic pick a' posies, you know.”

 

The words leave Meowth's mouth before he even realizes he's said anything at all. Pikachu snaps his head around to glare at him, eyes narrowed at the criticism.

 

“ _This_ ,” he holds up his basket, “ _doesn't concern you._ ”

 

“I know, I know: it's all for your twerpy pals and their blossomin' love life.” Meowth notices Pikachu's exasperated frown at his choice of words, and tosses his paws to the air in a shrug. “None a' my concern.”

 

“ _Right. None of it._ ”

 

“I was just thinkin'...” Meowth casts his gaze to the ground, focusing on the soft blades of grass wedged between his toes. Then he turns his attention to Pikachu, then to his basket. “They'd appreciate the gesture a whole lot more if you did a better job with your arrangement.”

 

He's stalling. He is unabashedly, shamelessly stalling. But something in him, some yearning feeling like the fluttering of butterfree in the pit of his stomach, doesn't want to see Pikachu leave just yet. Especially not on such a sour note.

 

And to his surprise, Pikachu throws him a bone. He puts the basket back on the ground, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He catches Meowth's gaze for a moment, then looks away, then back again. “ _Well..._ ” he mutters, wringing his paws together. “ _What would_ _ **you**_ _know about arrangements?_ ”

 

His question is subdued. Nervous, even. It's not just a simple retort to get Meowth to shut his trap; Pikachu legitimately wants to know the answer. Meowth chalks his hesitance up simply as the fear of disappointing his friends, especially with the possibility of disappointing the Head Twerp and ruining his chances to find young love. It would never come to that, Meowth knows. Head Twerp would be happy with any kind of gift his star player has oh-so-graciously given him.

 

But it's an opportunity to get Pikachu to stick around. And Meowth isn't going to let that pass.

 

“I know lots!” Meowth beams with a radiance brighter than the afternoon sun. “A lot more than you, apparently.”

 

Pikachu scowls. But he listens. So Meowth goes on.

 

“If ya ask real nicely, I _might_ be persuaded to help ya out,” he says, flashing a sharp, toothy smile. Pikachu makes a noise somewhere in between disgust and exasperation in the pit of his throat, and rolls his eyes. Then he looks at his pitiful bouquet, and purses his lips.

 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Pikachu huffs out a long sigh. His ears droop behind his head. “ _Fine..._ ” he mutters. “ _Couldja help me find some better flowers...?_ ”

 

“Ah-ah-ah,” Meowth tuts and waggles his finger. “What's the magic word?”

 

A long, frustrated groan escapes Pikachu. Meowth almost wants to laugh—in fact, he's biting his tongue in an attempt to resist the urge—but he manages to keep himself in check. “ _Couldja help me find some better flowers,_ ” Pikachu reiterates with much more force and volume, “ _ **please?**_ ”

 

He almost shouts the last part. The aggravation his tone demonstrates blows Meowth away in the sheer spite it contains.

 

Meowth knows Pikachu is capable of asking for assistance in a much nicer way, with a much nicer attitude. But he also knows that any more pointless antagonizing will earn him a quick and painful one-way trip on the Blast-Off Express. Either that, or Pikachu will storm off, instead. And Meowth wants him to stick around, even if it means Pikachu will take every chance he can to be salty about it.

 

Meowth springs up into the air, landing somewhat clumsily by Pikachu's side, but pays his jump no mind. He pats his paw on Pikachu's back. “Good enough for me!” he announces. Grabbing hold of Pikachu's shoulders, he pushes him along to a new spot of foliage. “First thing you gotta do is dump that pile a' weeds ya got there.”

 

Pikachu hesitates for a moment, then cautiously flips the basket upside down, letting the plants drop to the ground in a collective heap. He nods, awaiting Meowth's next instruction.

 

“Good. Now...” Meowth picks a patch of grass encircled with shrubbery and blossoms, and settles down into it. He beckons Pikachu to take a seat alongside him. “Ya gotta know which flowers convey the messages you're tryin' to send.”

 

“... _Huh?_ ”

 

Meowth shakes his head. “Gee, you're as dopey as your trainer...”

 

“ _I am_ _ **not**_ ,” Pikachu pouts. “ _You're just making no sense. How do you convey messages with flowers?_ ”

 

Meowth tuts again. “Boy, do you got lots to learn.” He plucks a pink blossom from its root, waving it clear in front of Pikachu's face for him to observe. “This is a wildflower. To your uncultured eyes, that's all it is: just a pretty posey to pick and toss to the wind. But to me, an actual intellectual...” Pikachu scoffs and rolls his eyes. “It's the flower of adoration.”

 

Meowth tosses the flower into the basket. Pikachu watches its descent, then turns back when Meowth picks another, different plant.

 

“And these little beauties are daisies,” Meowth continues. “People appreciate 'em 'cause it mean's someone's sayin', 'I admire youse a whole lot.'”

 

“ _How, though?_ ” Pikachu asks. “ _They're both just flowers._ ”

 

The question gives Meowth pause. He considers his answer for a moment, trying to remember back to when he learned all this useless knowledge anyway. All he can recall are Jessie and James arguing with each other about which color of roses are more appropriate for their motto and whether or not carnations are a sad substitute for them. He shrugs.

 

“I dunno. It's all just mumbo-jumbo humans came up with.”

 

The comment evokes a small laugh from Pikachu. His giggles are like bell chimes to Meowth's ears, pleasant and warm and beautiful. Meowth smiles, wishing to hear it again.

 

“ _Humans are so weird,_ ” Pikachu says.

 

“They are, aren't they?” Meowth lets out a snicker of his own. “But they sure do know how to make things overly cheesy and romantic.”

 

After picking a few more daisies, Meowth drops them into the basket. He searches around the area, looking for some more species of flowers he can identify. A large field of sunflowers catches his eye, their light color catching the sun gorgeously.

 

“And these!” Meowth jumps from his spot to rummage through the tall stalks of yellow and green. Pikachu follows after him, basket in hand. It requires all of Meowth's effort and more to pull one free, and he eventually just gives up entirely and slices off the top with his claws. The head of the plant falls from its perch, and Meowth catches it before it can hit the ground. He shows it off proudly to Pikachu, taking note of just how much the flower he holds matches the mouse's brilliant color. “These are sunflowers!”

 

Pikachu takes it graciously, examining the large blossom. “ _I know these ones,_ ” he says.

 

“Most people do. You know what it symbolizes?”

 

Pikachu scrunches up his face. “ _I dunno... Loyalty or something?_ ”

 

Meowth just about gleams. “See? You're learnin' stuff already!” He's proud of his adversary for learning some useless knowledge, especially useless knowledge taught by himself, but he tries to play it off as if it's no big deal. “Maybe you're not a lost cause after all.”

 

Pikachu sighs with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head.

 

“But you know what the bestest, most romantic flower of all is?” Meowth continues to quiz. “I'll help ya out: it's the one Jimbo always carries around.”

 

“ _Roses?_ ”

 

A snap of his fingers. “Bingo! They're the ones everyone wants to get their mitts on—even yours truly! To tell the truth, that's why I'm here.”

 

“ _What would_ _ **you**_ _need roses for?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

“Because, my amateur, love-lost amigo,” Meowth says, as he idly readjusts his bow-tie, “roses are the gateway to a whole heap a' opportunity. You get yourself a bundle a' roses, and everyone'll just throw themselves at youse. 'Cause red roses do somethin' no other flower does as well: they tell just how much love your little heart's got to give, and when you got a whole bundle, it's like that love's just multiplied by a thousand.

 

“That's why everyone's got 'em. 'Cause they show that undyin' love and loyalty that keeps romances together and lets new loves bloom. When you got yourself some roses to give, you've hit the romantic jackpot.”

 

Meowth's heart floats like a feather in his chest, fluttering gallantly. A certain passion and vehemence swells within him, proud to share his knowledge and his valiance with another. Even if that other happens to be Pikachu, who, in truth, couldn't care less about the prestige of roses, Meowth is still happy to indulge in such a romantic interest.

 

And hey—he hasn't lost Pikachu's attention yet. And so Meowth continues.

 

They spend the next half hour gathering a variety of flowers. They add tulips and orchids, irises and lilies. And Meowth has an explanation prepared for each of them, so word-for-word cheesy, Pikachu's convinced he's reading them out of a magazine. Meowth can tell that Pikachu finds the meanings ridiculous and unnecessary, stating his opinion that flowers didn't need silly hidden messages to be special multiple times. A part of Meowth agrees with him; after all, it's all just dumb marketing ploys to get folks to buy specially grown flowers.

 

But it's time spent with his rival. Meowth has no clue as to why, but he actually enjoys hanging around Pikachu.

 

It's strange; every thought in his brain is telling him that this is wrong, that he should not be in this close of contact to his mortal enemy, in this pleasant of a situation. They're not friends. Meowth knows that all too well. They're not friends, and they likely never will be.

 

But something about this feels right. Or at the very least, nice. Meowth is not under the compulsion or pressure to try and capture Pikachu to sell him off to the boss. Rather, this is a simple experience on the down-low, where Meowth can relax and sit back and actually enjoy the company he keeps. He knows Pikachu probably doesn't feel the same way—they only get along _so well_ , after all—but yet the mouse sticks around. By some force of Arceus, Pikachu stays put. Even when he has every chance and every excuse to pack up his flower basket and leave Meowth behind, Pikachu _stays_.

 

Meowth can't help but wonder if that means something.

 

“ _Meowth?_ ”

 

Pikachu's voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

 

“Yeah, Pipsqueak?”

 

Pikachu inserts the last couple of flowers he has picked into the arrangement they've created. Their design, Meowth thinks proudly, has turned out stunningly. It's a beautiful concoction of multicolored blossoms. Orchids, lilies, tulips, and countless others fill the volume of the basket, with bright yellow sunflowers framing the edges. Other small grasses and vines fill the gaps, giving the arrangement a very naturely feel. Meowth believes, with high regards to himself, that any human could only _wish_ they had made such a gorgeous bouquet.

 

“ _How come you're not trying to catch me right now?_ ”

 

It should have been a question asked long ago. Certainly something Meowth should have considered long ago.

 

In truth, he doesn't have a specific reason. Besides the fact that Jessie and James were (hopefully) having a romantic lunch date together, eliminating his option for backup, and also the fact he has nothing with him to catch Pikachu with. No nets, no giant robots, no electricity-proof glass containers, nothing.

 

Okay, maybe Meowth has a lot of reasons. But Pikachu doesn't need to _know_ those reasons.

 

Instead, he shrugs his shoulders, tossing his paws up in the air with a wistful gaze. “Consider it your day off,” Meowth answers. “Ain't much heart in tryin' to catch you on Valentine's Day, ya know.”

 

“ _Holidays never stopped you before._ ”

 

Meowth's wistful gaze quickly morphs into a peeved frown. “Hey, I'm cuttin' ya a break! Don't go questionin' me!”

 

Pikachu holds his paws up in defense. “ _Alright, alright. I'm not complaining,_ ” he says. His gaze falls to the ground. “ _It's just weird, that's all._ ”

 

Meowth almost feels offended by the notion that all he ever does is try to steal Pikachu for his own benefit, but then he realizes—that _is_ all he ever does. This must be so strange for the mouse, having his enemy not only engage in a passive, generally friendly conversation with him, but help him with his problems, as well.

 

The more Meowth thinks about it, the more revolting he feels. He's being _way_ too nice. And what is warranting it, anyways? A simple fascination? That has to be it. They're not friends; they likely never will be.

 

But it's so nice to consider the possibility. Even nicer to actually explore it.

 

Before Meowth can come up with a legitimate response, Pikachu hefts up the basket in his arms. He glances at the flower arrangement, a satisfied look in his eye, before glancing over to Meowth. “ _I think this is good enough,_ ” Pikachu says.

 

Meowth nods as well, proud of his work. “Good enough, for an amateur,” he quips, earning another sideways glance.

 

Pikachu huffs. “ _Well, it's good enough for me, so if that's all there is to it... then I think I'm done here._ ”

 

Meowth's heart sinks just the slightest bit. A part of him wants to ask Pikachu to stay longer, maybe a few hours longer, but he knows that will just be odd. Odder than Meowth is keen on being in one single day. “Alright then,” he says.

 

Meowth finds himself following Pikachu back to the cobblestone road that leads out of the garden. Pikachu raises a brow at the cat's peculiar behavior, but doesn't speak a word of it. They walk in silence, passing by many other human couples filing into the flower field. The pairs hold hands, skip, smile—all that fun romantic stuff Meowth only dreams of doing with a fellow pokemon of his own.

 

Only then does he remember why he came here in the first place. But upon all his flower hunting, he did not find a single rose, let alone a bouquet. Perhaps his adventure with Pikachu preoccupied him to the point where he just wasn't looking in the right places.

 

He does find a carnation, though. Meowth stops in his tracks, blinking at the pretty rose-wannabe, admiring how it catches the light of the sun and reflects a gorgeous shade of scarlet.

 

Pikachu halts his progression to stare back at his walking companion. Meowth takes notice, his gaze flicking between the mouse and his new-found flower. Without hesitation, he plucks it from the earth and offers it to Pikachu.

 

“For you,” he says simply.

 

Pikachu takes it, twirling the flower within his fingers as he studies each individual petal. “ _What does this one mean?_ ”

 

“Oh, nothin'. I just thought it matched your rosy cheeks.”

 

Pikachu quirks a half smile, brow raised high as he chuckles. “ _You sure are being weird today._ ”

 

They reach the end of the path, coming to a fork in the road. Upon one end is the cheap motel Jessie, James, and Meowth have taken occupancy in. Pikachu sticks to the other side, implying his own residence on the opposite side of town.

 

“ _I can't believe I'm saying this, but... Thanks_ ,” Pikachu says.

 

Meowth grins. “Don't mention it, Pipsqueak.”

 

He watches the mouse go off into the distance, watches until he disappears into the crowd. Meowth emits a sigh, then turns to head back towards the motel, a small skip in his step.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T THINK THAT'S HOW FLOWER FIELDS WORK, BUT FOR THE SAKE OF FICTION, LET'S JUST ROLL WITH IT
> 
> The carnation, of course, has a meaning, one I mentioned in secret somewhere in the chapter--it's probably pretty obvious, but I'll let y'all figure it out ^^
> 
> Anyways, I actually do like how this chapter turned out. It's silly and cheesy and dumb, buuuuuuut that's how I like my romances, to be honest. Even if it is sickeningly sweet.......
> 
> Makes me a bit sad when I think of the future chapters.............
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed, and I hope you all have a fantastic rest of your day!


	2. Cold Hands, Warm Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS, HERE'S A SNOW CHAPTER!! THat... has nothing to do with Christmas.. . . .
> 
> This chapter has a smallllll mention to Snow Way Out from Indigo League, but it's pretty miniscule, so I don't think you really need to watch it in order to get it
> 
> Also, uh.... You'll have to forgive the sickening amount of cheese in this chapter, especially at the end. I don't know what came over me omg. It's not nearly as bad as I thought it was when I was writing it, but it's still pretty damn corny
> 
> Anyway, this chapter takes place at some unspecified time in Johto (possibly around the Articuno arc)!

“Bring back my Pikachu!!”

 

Pikachu can only watch from within the confines of the electric-proof net he is trapped in as Ash and the others drift farther and farther away. They chase after the balloon as fast as they can run, but the snowstorm slows them to a slugma's pace. With every second that passes, Pikachu finds it a little more difficult to keep sight of them. He calls out for his trainer and tries his luck a second time at overcharging the net's defenses, but his attack shorts out yet again.

 

James smirks and giggles at an obnoxiously high octave that Pikachu isn't completely sure how he reaches. James raises the net up high to stare Pikachu eye to eye, glee overwhelming him. “Try escaping all you want, Pikachu,” he gleams. “But you'll find that that net is completely, one-hundred percent Pika-proof. No attacks you can dish out are going to get through—”

 

Pikachu swings his weight within the net, slamming his feet into James's face. The attack catches him off-guard. James winces, hand instinctively going for his nose as he squeals and falls back. But he does not let go.

 

Upon hearing the commotion, Jessie swivels her head around, her long hair bellowing out with the wind. She sneers down at the two, then snatches the net from James. “Quit fooling around,” she hisses. James nods at the order, then in an instant, pushes himself to his feet. But he is once again knocked back down when Wobbuffet decides to make his grand entrance. Jessie growls. “And _you_ get back in your ball!”

 

Once Wobbuffet returns to the captivity of his pokeball, Jessie peers over the edge of the basket for the twerps. To Pikachu's delight and her dismay, Ash hasn't given up the chase. Misty and Brock follow suit, but are visibly struggling to keep up with the trainer. Ash picks a pokeball from his belt then tosses it into the icy wind.

 

In a flash of shimmering sparkles, Noctowl emerges. He crooks his neck to face Ash, patiently awaiting directions. “Go tear down that balloon, Noctowl!” Ash calls up.

 

“Shit,” Jessie murmurs under her breath. She twists around to her colleagues, attention focused on the balloon's pilot. “Meowth, you need to get us out of here, now!”

 

“Workin' on it!” Meowth pulls at the burner's tug line, raising the balloon high up into the sky. The more altitude they climb, the more the harsh winds buckle their basket. Each of the Rockets grab hold of the frame, just barely keeping themselves from flying out. Pikachu can only clutch at his binds and pray that Jessie does not let go.

 

Another peek over the basket reveals Noctowl, deterred by the winds as they are, but still gaining on them. Noctowl coos a threat, one neither Pikachu nor Meowth can understand. But they both know that the oddly colored bird is not giving up. Pikachu grins at the thought. Meowth frowns.

 

James risks a peek over the balloon, focusing not on their gaining adversary, but rather on an escape. Around them are nothing but walls of mountains, tall and craggy, threatening to stab into the balloon and send them flying. With each push of the wind, they grow closer and closer to impaling themselves on the jagged rock cliffs. James gulps, suddenly coming to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, capturing Pikachu right in the middle of a blizzard might not have been such a great idea.

 

But he spots an opening. It's small, hidden in between two rocky cliff sides. A tight fit, one James is sure Meowth doesn't have the skills to maneuver (even if he claims he can fly this floating basket though the devil's nether regions with his eyes closed, which James seriously doubts), but it's their best chance at getting away.

 

“Over there!” James points to the opening. Meowth nods and changes the balloon's direction. They grow closer, the opening just a few seconds away, and James clutches at the poles. “Careful— _careful_! If you don't hurry, we're going to become the mountains' new festive decorations!”

 

Meowth growls, turning back to face his teammate. “Would you quit your yappin?!” He shouts, his voice struggling to overcome the harsh winds. “I can't hear myself think, here with all your blabberin—”

 

“Meowth, _watch where you're going!!_ ”

 

By the time Meowth snaps back to attention, a violent gust of turbulence grabs hold of the balloon. They are caught in a whirlwind of ice, and though Meowth tries desperately to steer them back on course, he is powerless against the snowstorm.

 

They make it through the gap. But not before the sharp rocks hanging off the mountain side slice a deep hole through the balloon, severing the Meowth-head's paw and half its face.

 

The additional gust pushes them far, far, far away from the mountains, and far, far, _far_ away from the twerps. Fearing the worst, Jessie, James, and Meowth lunge for each other, with Pikachu awkwardly sandwiched in between. As the balloon drops at a breakneck pace, they ride the current, screaming out altogether,

 

“Team Rocket's blasting off again!!”

 

* * *

 

 

His eyelids are heavy, but he forces them open with great effort.

 

The blistering cold hits him like a freight train. Pikachu is half-buried in the falling snow, the clumped powder enveloping him like a frigid blanket. He shakes himself free, but the net he is still caught in restricts his movements.

 

He doesn't spot Team Rocket immediately. It's a bit difficult to see anything with the fierce winds clouding his line of view. But out in the distance, meters away from where he lies, Pikachu can spot the balloon.

 

Jessie must have let go of the net sometime during the fall, he theorizes. Pikachu can spot the two humans hanging haphazardly across the rim of the basket, James's form threatening to topple out completely. Neither of them show signs of moving. Meowth is nowhere in sight.

 

A shiver runs down Pikachu's spine. With a bit of a struggle, he pulls himself free from the net. He stands up straight, trying to recognize just where in the world they have landed.

 

The mountains are there. But the balloon has taken quite a nasty fall, landing them at the very base. The Meowth-head no longer floats, but rather lays empty and flat, the evergreens' branches it's draped over impaling it.

 

They've fallen a long way. Down into the middle of nowhere, it seems. And what's worse: Ash and the others are nowhere to be found.

 

Pikachu hugs his arms close to his chest, taking an experimental step forward. Though his body throbs with a dull pain, nothing seems to be broken. Aside from a few bumps and bruises, he took the fall quite well.

 

He looks around, searching for a way out of this empty wasteland. The blizzard's harsh winds blockade his vision; he can barely see two feet in front of his face. Pikachu stumbles, his paws sinking into the snow. He manages a gulp.

 

“ _Ash?_ ” he calls out. The mountains bounce his voice right back. “ _Ash? Misty? Brock? Where are you?”_

 

As expected, Pikachu receives no response. He holds himself tighter as the winds pick up, pelting him with small shards of ice. With every stabbing pain he feels, he winces, his eyes squinting to try and protect themselves from the frost.

 

It occurs to him that he could very well perish out here if he doesn't find cover soon. Though he knows Ash always seems to miraculously show up at just the right moment, Pikachu can't afford to wait around for that moment to come. He needs to find refuge, and he needs to find it _fast_.

 

Something soft and squishy nearly trips him. Pikachu gasps when he feels the cold, chapped fur against his foot. At first, it's difficult to tell what is blocking his path—its light cream color blends in so well with its snowy surroundings. But he soon recognizes the golden charm adorning the thing's head.

 

Meowth lays silent and motionless in the sea of snow, not at all reactive to Pikachu's trampling over him. The mouse gasps, a feeling of dread sinking into his stomach as he observes Meowth's stiff form. Pikachu hesitantly flips him onto his side, and leans his ear close to hover over his fanged mouth.

 

To his relief, Meowth is still breathing. Short, labored breaths that Pikachu can barely hear over the storm. But he's breathing. He's _alive_. And that's all that matters.

 

Part of him wants to curse Meowth and Jessie and James for getting him into this situation. If it weren't for those three bumbling idiots, Pikachu wouldn't be stranded out here without his friends, fending for his life against nature's cruel tantrum.

 

' _They're freezing_ ,' he notes. And soon, another thought, this one much darker, pops into his head.

 

' _They deserve this. Good riddance.'_

 

None of them have moved a muscle since Pikachu recovered from the fall. They're all out cold, with barely any life left in them. He can't speak for Jessie and James, but judging by Meowth's visage—his pale face, along with blue-tinged lips and fingertips, riddled with cuts and bruises—they aren't faring very well.

 

' _Good riddance,_ ' Pikachu thinks again. Team Rocket got themselves into this mess, and now they are suffering the consequences. They have nobody to blame but themselves for their demise. There isn't a single thing that karma brings onto them that they don't deserve.

 

' _They're_ _ **freezing**_ _,_ ' that nagging part of Pikachu's conscience implores. ' _You need to_ _ **do**_ _something.'_

 

Deep down, he knows it's only the right thing. It may be a mistake. He knows he'll come to regret it later. But Pikachu also knows that he will never be able to live with himself if he leaves the three to their doom.

 

With a sigh, Pikachu rests his paw on Meowth's shoulder. Flakes of ice that have found comfortable homes within Meowth's fur prick his fingers, sending a chill down his spine. ' _He's so cold..._ ' Pikachu notes with a little bit of fear. He draws his mouth into a line, and with a breath, gives a firm shake.

 

“ _Meowth,_ ” he murmurs. When he receives no response, Pikachu shakes harder. “ _Meowth, wake up!_ ”

 

He prepares a storm of sparks in his cheeks, ready to unleash them into Meowth's frigid form, when the cat finally groans.

 

His bleary eyes sizzle in the light. He cringes, but blinks to adjust his vision. “P...Pikachu...?” he breathes out. A paw reaches out towards Pikachu's face, fingers craving the soft touch of warm fur as evidence to ensure that he's not stuck in some fever dream. Meowth drops his arm halfway, suddenly coming to his senses on his own. “What're you doin' outta your net?”  


Pikachu sighs. “ _That's what you're worried about?_ ” he questions. “ _We're stuck out in the middle of who-knows-where, about to freeze to death, and_ _ **that's**_ _what you're worried about?_ ”

 

“Alright, alright, sorry. Sheesh...” Meowth sits up straight. Once the cold slams into him without mercy, he doubles over, clutching at his arms. Like a leaf leading a fierce battle to keep a hold of its branch, he trembles.

 

“ _Can you walk?_ ” Pikachu asks. “ _'Cause if we don't get out of this snowstorm, we're goners..._ ”

 

“I... I think so.” Meowth slowly forces himself off the ground, legs quaking underneath him. The fur on his back raises, every clump encased in a frigid shard of ice. But he stands; shivering, but still standing. “Alright, let's vamoose.”

 

It's only then that Meowth takes notice of his friends, and the gruesome fate the balloon has befallen. Seeing Jessie and James out like lights, slowly being buried in the falling snow, sets him on edge. He swallows a deep gasp of air, color draining from his face.

 

“Jessie! James!!” With a new found energy, Meowth bounds over to his fallen friends. He clasps a paw on both their arms, giving them both a vigorous shake in an attempt to free them from their slumber. “C'mon youse guys—this ain't no time to be catchin' Z's!”

 

Neither of the humans show any signs of waking. In a perturbed fury, Meowth extends his claws, and slices deep lines into both of their faces. Even with the pain Pikachu knows they surely feel, Jessie and James still do not open their eyes.

 

“ _Come on, Meowth..._ ” Pikachu puts a hand to Meowth's shoulder, feeling every haggard breath he takes. “ _We can't wait for them._ _We gotta go._ ”

 

Meowth yanks his shoulder away, turning to Pikachu with clenched teeth. “I ain't leavin' them!” he barks.

 

The breath he exhales is warm, and creates a fog that dissipates within seconds in the cold's suffocating grasp. Pikachu takes a step back with his paws thrown into the air.

 

“ _I wasn't saying that,_ ” he defends. “ _I was saying that we just bring the basket with us and_ _ **go.**_ ”

 

Meowth blinks. “Oh.” He dawns a sheepish look. “Well, why didn't you say so, Pipsqueak?”

 

They struggle to shovel out the snow that has flooded the basket. By the time they're done, their paws have lost all feeling. But they push past it, and push Jessie and James back into the basket. Meowth pulls out all the spare blankets he can find within their storage and buries his friends in them. When he finishes, they both look like kakuna in all the layers they're wrapped in.

 

They tie the remnants of the balloon over the top of the basket. The resistant fabric blocks away most of the snow, giving Jessie and James temporary solace from the storm.

 

Meowth nearly collapses from all the work he's done in securing his friends' safety. Instead though, he settles for wiping the sweat off his brow with a pant. “What now?” He asks.

 

If nothing else, their efforts have created a warmth in their bodies, the blood pumping tirelessly through their veins. Pikachu feels a cold sweat dripping from his forehead, and rushes to wipe it dry. He grabs hold of two cables that have broken off the Meowth-head, and offers one to the cat.

 

“ _We gotta find shelter,_ ” he reminds.

 

They each tie the cables around their waists. “Yeah, but...”

 

All around, in every direction, snow falls in an endless downpour. The trees no longer display their green leaves to the world, but are instead coated in white. They can barely see the sky with how relentlessly the wind blows. They're surrounded on every front. Even the mountains grow distant in the dense fog.

 

Meowth voices the question they both share.

 

“Where?”

 

Pikachu has no answer, no hidden knowledge to aid them in their trek. He grits his teeth, trying to remember back to a time when something like this happened before. What did they do, he wondered. What would Ash do?

 

They found a cave. Or maybe Ash dug one out himself. It's such a distant memory, and of such a frightful experience, Pikachu has blocked out most of the details. But it seems like a good idea to go off of.

 

“ _We gotta find, like... a cave or an alcove or something,_ ” Pikachu says. “ _They're gotta be_ _ **something**_ _out here._ ”

 

Meowth nods in agreement. “Then what're we doin' standin' around? Let's go!”

 

* * *

 

 

Pikachu doesn't know how far they've walked. His body tenses, his muscles taut and frozen. He's exhausted from pulling the basket along, even with the (rather lackluster) help from Meowth's end. Every time he looks back, Pikachu can't tell if they have moved a long way or if they have even moved at all.

 

His paws are numb, his nose is buried under a tiny mountain of snow that only ever seems to regenerate whenever he shakes it off, his ears burn and sear—everything is wrong, but he knows he can't stop. Meowth doesn't fare much better. With each glance Pikachu sneaks, Meowth looks to shrink into himself further and further. He barely moves, his entire frame trembling. With his legs quaking like that, Meowth looks as if he's ready to drop and allow winter's harsh, sheering claws to drag him under.

 

But he keeps going. Every step he takes comes accompanied with a brand new complaint, and soon he's made a snide remark for just about everything even imaginable, but Meowth still keeps going. He hasn't thrown in the towel just yet. And inspiration like that, coming from such an unlikely source, fuels Pikachu with a burning passion and a will to survive.

 

They'll make it. Pikachu refuses to let the snowstorm triumph over them. They _will_ make it out alive, and he _will_ see his friends once again. They just have to keep going.

 

“H-hey, w-w-what's that, up ahead?” Meowth's teeth chatter so loudly, he can barely force the inquiry out.

 

Pikachu peers into the distance, following Meowth's pointed finger. Up ahead lays an assortment of trees spread thin across the barren landscape, each with a snow coating weighing down their branches. Somewhere further ahead, Pikachu can spot a dark shadow on the mountain's side. It's half buried in snow, but it looks hollow and empty, and most importantly, safe.

 

“ _I think it's a cave!_ ” Pikachu exclaims. Meowth grins and attempts to jump for joy, but his limbs are too stiff to make such a radical movement. Pikachu yanks at the cable with his paws, pulling with all his might. “ _Come on, we can make it!_ ”  


Without hesitation, Meowth follows Pikachu's example, and together they manage to pull the basket into the mouth of the mountain. They have to kick and dig their way through the heap of snow blocking the entrance, but once they're in, a great weight lifts off of their shoulders. Literally—once they're inside, both loosen the cables, therefore dropping the weight of the basket.

 

Once the two pokemon close the opening with as much snow as they can pad on, they both drop to the floor, completely and utterly exhausted. Meowth heaves a heavy sigh, his limbs shaking after their vigorous workout. “I really hope this ain't some hungry ursaring's home,” he jokes.

 

All Pikachu can manage is a nod of agreement.

 

With all the twigs and branches the basket has snagged in its woven clutches and some burner fluid, Meowth easily starts up a fire. He tightens the blankets around Jessie and James again, so much so that Pikachu thinks they must be overheating with how much warmth they have piled on. The two continue to snooze peacefully, oblivious to the struggle the two pokemon have just undergone.

 

Meowth walks back to his spot, settling down by the fire with his own cotton blanket wrapped around him. Pikachu can't help but stare, his fur still quite damp from so much time in the snow. He stifles a shiver, clenching his teeth together to keep them from chattering.

 

He refuses to ask for a covering of his own, because he knows what Meowth will say to such a request. But somehow, Meowth seems to read his mind anyway. Or perhaps he just takes notice of Pikachu's vacant, desperate stare.

 

“This is the only one we've got,” Meowth says. “All the others are for Jess and Jim.”

 

Pikachu pretends like he doesn't care that Meowth looks so cozy in that soft, plush blanket of his. He doesn't need one—that would just be asking for too much. Pikachu is out of the storm, with shelter and a fire going—what more does he need? He's fine. Just fine. The fire's fine, too. It doesn't matter that he has to sit so close that he can feel the embers the fire spits out just to ease his numbness. He's fine, and he's above asking someone so lowly, so _obnoxious_ , for help.

 

Pikachu doesn't need a stupid blanket to keep warm. But Meowth offers it anyway.

 

“Oh, quit your sad 'pity-me' eyes, and pipe down over here already.” Meowth unfolds his arm, holding out an open spot for his blanket to cover. The material drapes down, warm and thick and welcoming.

 

Pikachu doesn't think twice before wrapping himself up in the offering.

 

At the sudden contact of fur, Meowth jumps and retracts his arm, taking the blanket with him. “Yikes! Nevermind, you're _way_ too cold.” He shivers melodramatically, making a sound to show just how much Pikachu's touch chills his bones. Pikachu yanks the blanket right back.

 

“ _No, you offered! You can't just take it back!_ ” he responds.

 

Another tug. “Watch me!”

 

By the time they tire themselves out fighting for ownership of the blanket, Pikachu has warmed up completely. Meowth gives up the fight and concedes to sharing the covering equally.

 

They sit in silence for quite some time, watching the fire flicker and crackle. Every now and again, Meowth peers over to his friends, checking for any signs of movement. Every time they show no change, he turns back and sighs.

 

A part of Pikachu is a bit surprised at how attentive Meowth is being to Jessie and James. It seems like every time Pikachu sees the trio, they're fighting over some minute, insignificant thing—both verbally and physically. Perhaps Pikachu isn't seeing the whole story, but he's sure that Meowth's partners do a lot more harm to him than good. Whatever the case, Meowth sticks with them, for better or for worse.

 

Ash suddenly pops into Pikachu's mind again for the hundredth time today. He can't stop thinking about whether he and the others are still out looking for him, or if they're safe. The thought of the danger they might be stuck in frightens Pikachu to no end, and all of a sudden, he feels guilty for his own fortunate safety.

 

“Worried about your pals?”

 

Again, Meowth reads Pikachu's mind. Is he really that bad at keeping his thoughts off his expressions?

 

“ _Yeah..._ ” Pikachu nods.

 

Meowth readjusts his side of the blanket so he can sink deeper into its comfort. “Egh, they'll be fine,” he says. “If they can survive everythin' we've thrown at 'em, then they can survive anythin'.”

 

Pikachu manages a small chuckle. “ _That's not hard, you know. You don't put up much of a fight._ ”

 

“We keep catchin' _you_ , don't we?”

 

“ _Yeah, but Ash always comes through for me, in the end._ ”

 

“Heh, exactly. The little pain in the ass always comes through. Always wrecks my plans.” Pikachu frowns at the cat's terminology, but Meowth offers a soft smile in return, a telltale sign that he's only joking. “Why, I bet the twerp's out lookin' for you, right now. He'll go through anythin' for you. That's what youse two got.”

 

Pikachu smiles, his heart fluttering. Why Meowth is being so light-hearted about this, or why he's trying to comfort him at all, Pikachu isn't sure. It's so unlike the Rocket to be so considerate.

 

But it isn't a bad thing. The idea is so strange and far fetched, but it certainly isn't the first time Meowth has shown an ounce of sympathy to someone other than himself. It's rare for him to show such a sensitive, caring side of himself, that Pikachu is almost convinced he doesn't have one.

 

But when Meowth shows it, Pikachu can't help but wonder what it would be like if Meowth were like this all the time. If he wasn't in Team Rocket. He—and even Jessie and James, at times, too—never seemed as ruthless as the other Rocket members Pikachu has encountered.

 

“Pikachu?”

 

Meowth's voice breaks Pikachu out of his thoughts. Pikachu tries to pretend like he wasn't just thinking about him.

 

“ _Yeah?_ ”

 

Meowth rolls around a pebble with his foot, then aimlessly kicks it into the fire. “Why'dja help us out?”

 

“ _Huh? What do you mean?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

“Just now, in the snowstorm.” Meowth keeps his gaze cast to the fire, his sapphire eyes aglow in the orange light. “You got y'self free, you coulda just left us behind and went off on your merry way,” Meowth explains. “So... why'd ya stick around?”

 

Pikachu shifts uncomfortably and begins to knead the blanket's hem in his paws. “ _You needed help_ ,” he answers simply, his voice soft and quiet. “ _I couldn't just_ _ **leave you**_ _.”_

 

“Well, why not?” Meowth presses on. “We ain't done nothin' but pester you, long as we known each other. You coulda gotten rid a' us for good. Then you'd never hafta worry 'bout us followin' you no more—you're tellin' me you don't want that?”

 

“ _Of course I want that,_ ” Pikachu retorts. “ _You think I_ _ **like**_ _being stalked by you?_ ” Meowth presses his lips in a frown. “ _But like I said: you needed help. Yeah, we're not friends, but... I just couldn't..._ _ **leave you**_ _to die. I needed to help. I don't think I could live with myself if I left..._ ”

 

Meowth thinks for a moment, toiling Pikachu's reasoning in his head. Finally, he speaks again. “That's real stupid a' you, you know.”

 

Pikachu looks up, his ears perking to their highest stance. “ _What?_ ”

 

“You, helpin' your enemies like that,” Meowth elaborates. “That's a real stupid move. One a' these days, you're gonna help someone who ain't as friendly as Jess and Jim and me, and they ain't gonna appreciate it too much. They won't care about you're silly little guilt complex.”

 

“ _Well, would you rather I_ _ **didn't**_ _help you? 'Cause the exit's right there._ ”

 

Meowth holds his paws out in a gesture of defense. “Hey, hey—of course I'm glad you helped us. I just think it's really stupid, that's all. I mean, who in the whole world would put their life on the line to help out their sworn enemy?”

 

“ _Well, what about you?_ ” Pikachu challenges. “ _If I was the one who needed help, and you were the only one who could save me, would you?_ ” He pauses, watching Meowth's snarky, know-it-all gaze morph into one of a stupefied shock. “ _Or would you just leave me to die?_ ”

 

“I—Well, you—you don't—” Meowth takes his time thinking up an answer, trying and failing multiple times to spew one out. His expression goes through many phases as he ponders just what he might do if the proposed scenario ever occurs. Pikachu frowns, not sure whether to be happy about how much thought Meowth puts into this, or expectantly chagrined. Seeing Pikachu's disappointed gaze, Meowth eventually sighs. “Yeah... I-I'd help. I'd expect one big-ass payment in return, but... Of course I'd help...”

 

A grin lights up Pikachu's face. “ _See? I knew you had some shred of goodness in you somewhere,_ ” He says playfully. “ _So it can't be_ _ **that**_ _stupid, if you're willing to do it, too._ ”

 

“No, it _is_ still stupid! And don't think, just 'cause I'd help ya out in some hypothetical scenario, that I got some goodness in me! I got a reputation a' wickedness to uphold!” Meowth protests.

 

“ _Some reputation, you big cream puff._ ”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?!”

 

A smirk dances upon Pikachu's lips. “ _It means you're just a big ol' softy,_ ” he teases. His smirk only grows when Meowth becomes more and more insulted by such accusations. “ _You're not wicked at all._ ”

 

“I'll show you soft!”

 

Before Pikachu can react, Meowth tackles him to the ground. Pikachu falls to his back, Meowth falling right on top of him. With his superior strength, Pikachu easily turns the tides and flips their position. He giggles, pinning the cat down without a shred of effort. Meowth laughs too, throwing harmless fists into Pikachu's chest in an attempt to resist.

 

Their scuffle lasts for another minute or two, with both sides managing to pin the other down one point or another. Though it's not a real fight, Pikachu is obviously winning. But Meowth doesn't seem to be bothered by it. In fact, he looks as if he's having a load of fun. With the way he cackles as Pikachu pins him to the ground again, Pikachu supposes it has to be so.

 

And he's having an enjoyable time, too, he muses. How they managed to reach this event after all the trouble they went through just to get here, he isn't entirely sure. But he certainly doesn't regret it.

 

Eventually, the two fall into such a deep fit of laughter that they can't find the will to wrestle anymore. At this point, the blanket has become a mess of tangles between their tussling, ensnaring the two pokemon within its warm clutches. Pikachu lays atop Meowth's chest, listening to his breathing and his heart's rhythmic beat. Meowth struggles to free his arm from the blanket to wipe a tear from his eye, then rests it on Pikachu's back. A few more airy giggles escape him, such a sweet, charming sound to Pikachu's ears.

 

“Wooobbuffet!!”

 

At the sound of a pokeball cracking open and the oh-so-familiar blue blob emerging with a loud shout, Meowth's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. He immediately pushes Pikachu off of him and scrambles to unravel himself from the mess of cotton he's stuck in. Once he's free, he tosses the blanket away, the warm cloth smacking Pikachu in the face as he tries to sit up.

 

“Wobbuffet?! What do ya think you're doin', sneaking up on me like that?!” He shrieks.

 

Wobbuffet opens his mouth to respond, but stops when he registers the scene in front of him. His gaze switches rapidly from Meowth to Pikachu, back to Meowth, then Pikachu again. He sputters out fragments of words, each syllable sounding more alarmed than the last.

 

Meowth's face goes pale once again. “This ain't what it looks like! I don't know _what_ you think it looks like, but whatever you're thinkin', it's _wrong!!_ ”

 

“ _What's_ wrong, Meowth?”

 

Each of the three pokemon perk up at the sound of a groggy, feminine voice.

 

Jessie crawls up from her bed of blankets, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Without even batting an eyelash, she pulls Wobbuffet's ball from her pocket and returns the blue blob to his confines. Meowth gulps and tries to sit up as straight as he can.

 

“I, uhh.... Pikachu got a little rowdy,” Meowth lies through his teeth. “I was just puttin' him in his place, that's all.”

 

At the sudden ruckus, James lifts his head to join Jessie. He yawns. “It sounded like you two were fooling around,” he says.

 

Meowth clutches a paw to his chest in feigned offense. “You're accusin' me a' fraternizin' with _him_?! That's the craziest thing I ever heard!”

 

Pikachu watches him argue, watches as Meowth's face grows the slightest tinge red. Such a reaction confuses him, but Pikachu doesn't doddle on the thought. Instead, he settles for hogging the abandoned blanket for himself.

 

“Uh-huh.” Jessie suddenly winces, her gloved hand reaching for her face. “What—why do I—” She looks to James, who wears the same look of shock and pain, as well as the same triad of scars sliced across his face. The redhead fumes, turning towards Meowth. “Did you claw my face _again?!_ ”

 

Meowth gulps, but tries to keep a straight face. “I tried to wake youse two up, but you was both so deep in dreamland, I thought you'd never leave!”

 

“That doesn't give you the right to slice your grimy claws into my face! You're ruining my perfection!”

 

“And mine!” James agrees.

 

Meowth looks over to Pikachu with a skeptical brow raised, and they share a look of disdain.

 

“Ah, can it—you look better with 'em.” Meowth waves his paw dismissively. “For your information, Pikachu and me just _saved_ your sorry hides while you was busy snoozin' your lives away!”

 

At first, the two humans are stunned; then Jessie laughs. “Did you, now? I'm sure Pikachu did most of the work.”

 

Before Meowth can retort, Pikachu chirps in agreement and nods. Meowth casts a glare in his direction. “Quiet, you...” he hisses. He turns back to his friends with an indignant huff.

 

“And you couldn't even keep him in his net, either?” Jessie prods.

 

Meowth's face grows redder. “Who cares about that?! If it weren't for Pikachu and me, you'd still be out there becomin' snow angels!”

 

“Well, what do you want, a medal?”

 

He pouts and crosses his arms. He squeezes his eyes shut as he looks away. “A simple 'thank you' would be nice.”

 

For a moment, nothing fills the dead air but the crackle of the fire. Meowth juts out his bottom lip, cracking a lid open as he waits 'patiently' for a response. Finally, James speaks.

 

“ _I_ appreciate what you did, Meowth,” he says with a smile. “Even if you did let the Pikachu out of the bag, so to speak. So thank you.”

 

James nudges Jessie's side with his elbow. She grunts at the touch, and finally resigns when James nudges her a second, harder time. “Oh, alright... I guess you didn't screw up that badly...” she grumbles. “Thank you, Meowth...”

 

Meowth's face lights up in a wide, toothy grin. He bounds his way over to his friends' makeshift bed, leaping into their heap of blankets. One by one, he yanks them down into a group hug. Jessie and James roll their eyes, but smirk and return the gesture.

 

“See? That wasn't so hard!” Meowth teases. “Next, you can generously donate all your leftover cookies.”

 

“Don't push it.”

 

Meowth frowns, and with a small groan, lets the two go.

 

Jessie's eyes move from Meowth over to Pikachu, who has been watching the entire affair silently from within his newly-claimed blanket. She smirks. “And I suppose the rodent wants something in return, too?”

 

At first, Meowth is surprised. But then he looks back to Pikachu with a smile and a nod. “I'm sure he does.”

 

Pikachu's ears pop up at the sudden attention. He thinks for a moment, hoping Meowth will provide translation for what he has to say. “ _You could let me go without a hitch when the snowstorm ends,_ ” he requests.

 

Meowth cups his paw around his ear, comically leaning in towards Pikachu's direction. “What's that?” he says. “'Give you a _ten-second head start_ to escape after the storm ends?' Pikachu, your demands are so high!”

 

“ _That's not what I said, and you know it!_ ” Pikachu protests. “ _Tell them what I actually said!_ ”

 

Meowth nods along with every word he hears, leaning in so far in Pikachu's direction, Pikachu is sure he'll topple over. “Oh, what's that you said?” he tosses a glance to Jessie and James. “'Treat Meowth with the greatness and the respect he deserves?' Wow, Pikachu—that's so considerate! You're a real pal. I had no idea you thought a' me that way!”

 

Pikachu opens his mouth for another scolding, but drops it when he realizes that Meowth isn't going to stop twisting his words. He sits and frowns, a low but steady growl emitting from his throat.

 

“I dunno, guys. I think he's pretty set on those terms.” Meowth shrugs and shakes his head in mock sadness. “There don't seem to be any persuadin' him otherwise.”

 

“Or maybe you're just too soft to say no,” Jessie teases. Pikachu doubles over with laughter as Meowth's face erupts in a crimson hue again.

 

“I ain't soft!” he shouts.

 

It's clear that Jessie and James see right through Meowth's fake demands, but they humor him by playing along anyway. James lays a hand on Jessie's shoulder, nodding towards the two pokemon. “I think we should give Pikachu what he wants,” he says in a calm, quiet voice. The corners of his lips curl upwards, playing on the humor in his tone. “Just this once. He _did_ help save our lives, after all.”

 

“If we were indebted to everyone who's ever saved our lives, we'd be a charity fund!” Jessie argues. But she softens at James's attempt at puppy-dog eyes. She groans, throwing her head back in frustration. “Oh, alright. Fine. Just this _once_.”

 

Meowth cheers, overwhelmingly ecstatic. He pipes down over to his spot with Pikachu, pulling him into a tight hug. “You hear that? You're gettin' your wishes!” Pikachu can only roll his eyes and reluctantly accept the embrace with an awkward grin.

 

Well, if nothing else, Meowth has given him a chance to escape. He supposes that's the most generous Meowth's going to be.

 

Jessie and James watch their furry companion, lopsided grins of their own playing on their faces. Jessie shakes her head. “I'm surrounded by a bunch of softies...” she chuckles.

 

“I ain't soft!!”

 

Pikachu chuckles along, readjusting his position within the blanket as Meowth muscles his way beside him. He grins upon seeing the cat's over-exaggerated pout. “ _Sure you aren't, cream puff._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLICE ME OFF A PIECE A' THAT HOG HEAD CHE E SE
> 
> Honestly, I think Graveyard of Stars fucked me over with Jessie and James. Now that I actually have the chance to write them alive and well, I don't know how to do it!! So hopefully that wasn't too painful. .. .
> 
> Anyway, next chapter coming at you tomorrow. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and if you do not, I hope you have a terrific day anyway ^^


	3. Oil on Troubled Waters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's basically a huge headcanon dump. You see those not-so-pleasant tags up in the description, namely the 'past abuse' one? That's what we're getting ourselves into today. Though, the vast majority of it is just theorized and speculated from one of the characters' point of view, so I don't think it's toooooo bad
> 
> Also, I'm not 100% certain of that General rating. While I don't think this story is intense enough to be given a Teen rating, I'm not sure if it fits in General, either. Let me know if you have any insight on the matter
> 
> This chapter takes place in some unspecified time in Hoenn

Meowth isn't quite sure how it happened. One moment, he and Jessie and James have the twerps cornered from within their Mecha Meowth. The next, the cave floor crumbles beneath their feet, and he's stuck behind a mountain of boulders.

 

All Meowth can really recall is Pikachu landing atop of the robot's face, obscuring his vision as he attempts to virtually control it. While he struggles and struggles to swipe the meddlesome mouse away from his view, something snaps and crackles. Then the Meowth head pops.

 

“Piece a' junk...” Meowth murmurs as he claws his way to the decapitated head's surface. “Shoulda known better than to let Jessie do the online shoppin'...”

 

Once he's free, Meowth looks to the left, then to the right. To his dismay, Jessie and James are nowhere to be found.

 

“Jessie? Jaaaaaames?” He calls out. “Where are youse?!”

 

His ears perk up for a response, but they receive nothing but the sound of his own voice bouncing against the rock walls. Meowth sighs. The cave-in must have separated them a long way.

 

' _Just like 'em to get lost without me,_ ' Meowth thinks to himself. ' _Looks like it's up ta me to find 'em again..._ '

 

With another sigh, he pushes himself off the Meowth head's unhinged jaw. When he lands, however, a sudden wave of dizziness slams into him like a freight train. Meowth clutches at his skull, stumbling about like a drunkard. Apparently that fall took a lot more out of him than he originally expected.

 

His staggering cuts short when something plump and furry trips him. Meowth falls to his face with a yelp, legs caught on his squishy road block. He growls.

 

“Hey, watch it!” He yells back. “I coulda lost a— _Pikachu?_ ”

 

Pikachu groans upon hearing his name, and shakes himself back to consciousness. His paws go immediately for his head. Then, once he realizes the situation he's currently found himself in, he shoves Meowth's legs off of him.

 

“You fell down here, too?” Meowth asks.

 

Pikachu rubs at his temples before staring Meowth in the eye. “ _Yeah. Because of_ _ **your**_ _stupid robot,_ ” he seethes.

 

It isn't difficult to pick up on Pikachu's accusing tone. Meowth tilts his head, curious as to what might have caused the mouse's usual chipperness to dissipate.

 

“ _Lemme guess—you got us separated from everyone_ _ **again,**_ _didn't you?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

“Hey, you—I—” Meowth pauses. _Technically_ , Pikachu's not _wrong_ , but Meowth will be damned if he's the one who takes the blame. “If you hadn't surprised me like you did, and just jumped into our electric proof net like we _asked_ , none a' this woulda happened!”

 

“ _Well, if_ _ **you**_ _hadn't shown up where you weren't_ _ **wanted**_ _, we wouldn't be_ _ **stuck**_ _here!_ ”

 

“Oh, you really wanna go there? Don't test me, Pikachu—I can still capture you, myself. Don't think that just 'cause we're stuck behind a wall a' solid stone that we ain't got no hope a' breakin' through, and no hope a' seein' our friends again, that you're off the hook!”

 

Pikachu's cheeks begin to spark.

 

“Oh, you wanna fight? Well then, you asked for it. Here comes—”

 

A surge of powerful electricity torrents through Meowth's muscles and veins before he can even conjure up a single Fury Swipe.

 

He collapses to the cave floor, coughing up smoke. “Point taken...”

 

Pikachu huffs a sigh, then turns on his heel and stomps his way down the open path of the cave. Meowth instantly scrambles to his feet, shaking the overwhelming sense of pins and needles from his system, and runs to catch up.

 

“H-hey! Wait for me!” he calls out after Pikachu. “Don't leave me behind. I can help you get outta here.”

 

Pikachu keeps his eyes forward, unfazed by his sudden company. “ _I can get out on my own just fine. You'll just get us lost._ ”

 

“Lost?” Meowth repeats. “I'll have you know, I am an excellent navigator!”

 

“ _Yeah. When you're leading me back to your pals._ ”

 

“Hey, who said I was leadin' you back to Jess and Jim?” Meowth asks. In his head, he curses Pikachu for guessing his plan before he can even think to execute it. “That's just dishonorable. All I wanna do is lead ya back to your own twerpy trainer so's you can live on, twerpin' it up.”

 

He swears he hears Pikachu growl. “ _Which you'll mess up._ ”

 

“Mess up? You really got that little faith in me? How would I possibly mess this up?”

 

“ _Because,_ ” Pikachu turns his head to face Meowth, the first eye contact they've made since they've begun their travels, “ _you mess_ _ **everything**_ _up! All the time! It's always you! We can't go_ _ **anywhere**_ _without you showing up and wrecking everything!_ ”

 

Meowth frowns. Again, Pikachu's not wrong; Team Rocket—himself especially included— _does_ have the uncanny ability of ruining everything they set their sights on. But Pikachu doesn't have to be so blunt about it.

 

“Ya know, I'm sensin' a lot a' hostility from you, Pikachu,” Meowth says. “What's eatin' you?”

 

“ _Nothing_ _ **you'd**_ _care about._ ”

 

Meowth gasps, clutching a paw to his chest. “I'm _insulted_ , Pikachu! What makes you think I wouldn't care?”

 

“ _'Cause you're just like him._ ”

 

“Huh?” Meowth stops in his tracks. “Just like who?”

 

Pikachu halts as well, turning to Meowth with an aggravated grunt. “ _The only reason we came through here is because we heard that someone was catching and selling off all the cave pokemon. So we thought that maybe we could find him and stop him,_ ” he explains. “ _But of course, you three come in and ruin everything._ ”

 

“So, what—you think we're in cahoots with that poke-nabber, or somethin'?”

 

“ _It wouldn't surprise me._ ”

 

Another gasp. Meowth's almost disappointed; he thought for sure that Pikachu would know him better, by now. “Well, I got news for you, Pallie: Team Rocket don't work with no freelance thieves. That guy ain't just stealin' from this cave; he's stealin' from _us_ , too!”

 

“ _Figures..._ ”

 

Pikachu continues on his trek without another word. Meowth watches him go, stunned into silence by the mouse's pique.

 

“I don't get it, Pikachu,” He says, dropping the charisma in his voice in favor of a more concerned tone. “Why are you so worked up about this?”

 

“ _Because I hate watching people profit from stealing pokemon!_ ” Pikachu retorts. “ _That poacher's taking pokemon away from their homes like it doesn't even matter! Like they're worth nothing but a bargaining price._ ”

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

“ _And you, too!_ ” Pikachu goes on. “ _I don't get how you can just sit by and watch it happen, let alone,_ _ **help**_ _people do it! Doesn't it bother you at_ _ **all?**_ ”

 

Meowth thinks for a moment to how he even got into this poke-poaching profession to begin with. All he remembers is seeing the term 'Rocket' on a recruitment poster laying torn and drowned in the midst of a grimy puddle, and following the directions to the best of his ability. He remembers taking an instant liking to Giovanni, and all the love and affection the man once gave him.

 

Not only does he remember, in vivid detail, his first meeting with Jessie and James, but he recalls all the training they went through together. How he was added to their duo as their team pokemon, like so many other pokemon were, and how they treated him like a person, just like each other.

 

He never really gave much thought to the morality of his actions until now; all he really cared about was the possibility of a big, fat paycheck and the reclamation of his title of Top Cat.

 

“Not really, no,” Meowth answers. “People nab other people all the time. What's so different about a pokemon nabbin' other pokemon?”

 

“ _It doesn't matter if it's a human or a pokemon—it's still a horrible thing to do!_ ” Pikachu shouts. “ _You're basically catching pokemon and selling them into slavery!_ ”

 

“Oh, and workin' for your twerpy trainer _ain't_ slavery?”

 

“ _My 'twoipy trainah,'_ ” Pikachu throws up exaggerated quotations over his crude mimicry of Meowth's accent, “ _ **has a name!**_ ”

 

“Oh, right—Ass Ketchup. I forget sometimes.”

 

“ _ **Ash Ketchum,**_ ” Pikachu growls out the correction. “ _And being trained by a human is_ _ **not**_ _slavery._ ”

 

“How? You take orders from 'em with no ifs, ands, or buts. You do all your trainer's biddin' and fights _for_ 'em. You show any sign a' disobeyin', you get punished,” Meowth explains. “Face it—you do all the work in every battle you get into, and you ain't even the one with the badges. All you got's a crusty ol' prison inside a' that shiny pokeball a' yours. Only _you_ got special treatment 'cause you complained too much.”

 

_**'SLAM!!'** _

 

Meowth leaps to the floor just before the boulder Pikachu bats his way can make contact with his skull. He can feel the force behind the Iron Tail just from the sheer velocity the rock sails at across his fur, alone.

 

When he gazes up to Pikachu, all he sees is the definitive image of pure, unkempt rage. His face is a mess of scowling lines, creases etched deep into his skin. Meowth can hear his harsh breaths, as well as the steam that's undoubtedly blaring out of his ears. There's a certain glassiness to Pikachu's eyes, but Meowth can't tell if it's a fire that burn in his pupils, or tears.

 

“ _Shut up!_ ” Pikachu shrieks. “ _Just_ _ **shut up!!**_ _You don't know_ _ **anything,**_ _okay?! Nothing!! I_ _ **know**_ _bad trainers, alright? I've_ _ **seen**_ _them, and I've seen what they've done to pokemon. And I've been there, too! I_ _ **know**_ _what it's like to be a prisoner!_ ”

 

Though a million questions blaze in Meowth's mind, he dares not interrupt him.

 

“ _But Ash is_ _ **not**_ _a bad trainer. He cares, and he puts in just as much work and effort into a battle as I do! Ash is the_ _ **best**_ _thing that's ever happened to me!_ ” It takes a moment for Pikachu to regain his haggard breath. But once he does, his tone goes cold. So cold, and distant, and apathetic, Meowth feels every word plunging into his heart like a knife. And somehow, that's even scarier than all the yelling. “ _But_ _ **you**_ _wouldn't get it. You don't have a trainer. You don't know what that's even like. All_ _ **you**_ _do is steal pokemon away from their trainers for a quick buck._ ”

 

And then Pikachu turns away. He doesn't speak another word, doesn't shout or scream or cry or slam his tail of iron into any more rocks. He walks away, without so much as a final glance to Meowth as he leaves him in the dust.

 

Meowth can only watch him go. Pikachu's words echo on repeat in his mind, the harsh sentiments and the torturous pang of anguish in his voice pounding in his head. Suddenly, he feels the oh-so-ugly, tormentous void of guilt welling up inside the pit of his stomach, suddenly regrets the things he said and the words he's chosen. For a moment, Meowth wonders why he felt the need to go so far into his bashing of trainers, that he ended up insulting Pikachu as well. And in that small moment, he knows he's gone _too_ far.

 

He hefts himself off the ground, brushing away the dirt and pebbles from his fur. He takes a slow step after Pikachu's retreating form, hesitant to even follow. But he does anyways; slowly, distantly. But he still follows.

 

* * *

 

Three times, Meowth attempts to strike up another conversation with Pikachu. Even though every bone in his body tells him it's a bad idea, that Pikachu so obviously wants nothing to do with him, he still tries.

 

The first is a simple question, unrelated to the argument they just ended. Just a question, nothing more, just something to try and get a single word out of the mouse.

 

“Do ya even know where you're goin'?” Meowth asks as they come face to face with two branching pathways in the rock.

 

Pikachu starts down the left tunnel, but not before stopping in his tracks and turning back to Meowth with a sneer. “ _ **No.**_ _I_ _ **don't**_ _,_ ” he spits back with what Meowth can only assume is either sarcasm or just very venomous disdain. “ _So_ _you're welcome to_ _ **just leave.**_ ”

 

He gets the message loud and clear: Pikachu doesn't want to be anywhere near the cat, doesn't want anything even remotely to do with him. Meowth understands it just perfectly.

 

But he still follows. If only because he would rather be lost alongside an angry Pikachu than lost on his own.

 

They continue on in their trek of silence for at least another ten minutes before Meowth tries his second attempt at discussion. He knows he shouldn't; he knows it's only going to end in either disappointment or outright fear. But he can't keep himself from talking. He needs some alleviation from this tension, some outlet for his brain to spew out the thoughts that cloud it before he can succumb completely to the fear that if they keep walking, they'll get lost, if they get lost, they'll starve, if they starve, they'll die, if they die, Jess and Jim and Pikachu's twerpy trainer are going to be lost without them and oh criminy, his thoughts just _keep going—_

 

“Hey Pikachu?” he blurts out. “I know you're mad and all, but ya know? Talkin' bout things actually helps a lotta people—a-and pokemon—feel better. So, um... You wanna talk? About your other trainer?”

 

He'd have to be blind to miss the fierce side-eye Pikachu throws his way.

 

But like a fool, Meowth keeps going. “'Cause I think it'd really help you solve all a' your problems. It ain't good to keep that stuff all bottled in like that. I mean, does your twerpy trainer even know?”

 

Pikachu doesn't respond in words, nor in actual violence. He responds with a threat: a threat of sparking cheeks and a deep scowl that reads, 'If you so much as utter one more _word_ about this whole thing to me, I will fry you to within an inch of your _life._ '

 

Meowth takes the hint, and shuts his trap. “Alright, okay...” he murmurs, his paws held up in front of him defensively. “I'm sorry.”

 

Pikachu leads on with even more speed than before. Meowth has to practically run to keep up, but he doesn't dare ask Pikachu to slow down. He just follows the mouse through the winding paths and dark tunnels, wondering to himself if they'll ever make it out. With how long they walk, Meowth starts to think it's unlikely. The road back to the humans sure is a boring one, and though Meowth is tempted to whistle a chipper tune to work his mouth somehow, he has a particular feeling that his song won't be met with a standing ovation from the seviper that he follows.

 

He wonders if everyone else is looking for them, too. Surely Jessie and James are—they have to be. They'd be nothing without the self-appointed brains and charismatic charm of their team. And Team Rocket's always searching for Pikachu, no matter if they're all together or completely apart.

 

Of course, that most likely means that the twerps are looking for Pikachu as well. Head Twerp must be suffering from some severe separation anxiety by now, Meowth figures. Like Jessie and James, he's nothing without his furry companion.

 

Which, in turn, makes Meowth wonder: if Pikachu had a trainer before Head Twerp, what in the world were they like? Before today, Meowth had no clue that Pikachu even _had_ a previous trainer. He never brought it up; and he always seemed so close to Ash, Meowth never got any indication of otherwise. But surely that old trainer was nothing without Pikachu—all trainers are nothing without their pokemon.

 

So... why did Pikachu make it sound like his trainer neglected him? Or worse...?

 

He wonders if Pikachu has scars.

 

The thought flusters Meowth. More than that, even—it makes him downright angry. How could someone do that to a pokemon as nice and as caring as Pikachu? To himself, sure; Meowth isn't exactly the most upstanding pokemon, and he knows that. He's a thieving, conniving, sleazy little bastard who receives more than his fair share of punishment from every source imaginable. He has so many scars of his own, he's lost count.

 

But Meowth deserves each and every single one of them. Pikachu doesn't.

 

The mouse is kind and considerate, too kind for his own good, even. He helps anyone and everyone he can, even literal scum like Meowth, and without even expecting anything in return. Pikachu's nice just for the sake of being nice; everyone enjoys being around him, everyone wants to be his friend. He's cheerful and optimistic, charming and adorable—to the point of which all his virtues nearly make Meowth sick.

 

But most importantly, Pikachu is a good pokemon. Though he has his bad days, like so many do, and though he won't hesitate to put someone in their place if need be, there isn't a single mean-spirited bone in his body. He's a kind and gentle pokemon, who would rather fight every hour of every day for the safety and happiness of every living being on this earth than watch it dwindle away in the hands of monsters.

 

Someone like that doesn't deserve to go through such atrocities.

 

Meowth looks to Pikachu again. His eyes trail a line down Pikachu's back, searching for something he hopes he'll never find. The mouse's golden coat hides any indication of previous damage, but Meowth gets the daunting feeling that it's there. Hidden away from the world, but cut so deep, it still bleeds.

 

If Pikachu doesn't want to talk about whatever happened to him, then fine. It's none of his business, anyway, Meowth figures. Why _would_ Pikachu talk about something as awful as a previous abusive trainer to someone as despicable as him? Meowth gets it—one hundred percent. He would be reluctant to discuss something like that, too.

 

All he can do is imagine. Imagine the faceless trainer that kicks the mouse and throws rocks at him. Imagine the long, restless nights without food and without warmth the electric pokemon must have had to endure. Imagine the punishment he received when he made a simple mistake, and the confinement in his pearl and crimson prison without treatment for his wounds. Meowth imagines it vividly, and abhors every single image that burns in his brain.

 

With a furious cry, Meowth kicks a stray rock down the tunnel. He watches it soar through the air, toppling and turning, until it lands unceremoniously upon the cave floor. The rock bounces a couple of inches further before its progress is permanently halted. Meowth sighs.

 

“ _What are you_ _ **doing?**_ ”

 

In his moment of frustration, Meowth almost completely forgets that Pikachu is right within earshot of him. The mouse gazes back at him, tawny eyes a mix of confusion and annoyance.

 

“Nothin',” Meowth mumbles. “Just thinkin' about how stupid trainers are...”

 

He can't keep the irritation from his tone. How could he? Trainers make him so mad, especially bad ones. Meowth can't understand for a second why any pokemon would want to surrender to a human's care, let alone, ones so terrible. To be treated so horribly, yet still find a will to fight their battles for them. And especially when pokemon have so much more power than humans, when they could easily _destroy_ them with even their most basic attacks.

 

Perhaps it's out of fear, he supposes. Fear, or shame, or—Arceus forbid—respect. Whatever the reason is, he hates it. And he hates trainers even more for taking advantage of that weakness.

 

There are so many awful trainers out in the world, that Meowth begins to wonder what makes a good trainer so allegedly 'good'. They're the same in many regards: they still own the life of their pokemon and determine their actions and lifestyle _for_ them. He can't even begin to comprehend why any pokemon would want that. Jessie and James are his two exceptions to the hoard of horrendous humans—and he supposes he has to include the Twerp Troop in that category, as well—and even they all have their fair share of problems.

 

Never would Meowth, himself, surrender all of his rights to a human, no matter how nice or caring or supportive they seem, Jessie and James included. Certainly not to supposedly become the 'best he can be', and certainly not to make some fantastical 'lifelong friendship.' He never would, and he doesn't understand for an instant why any other pokemon would.

 

But maybe the reason he doesn't understand it is because he's never actually _had_ a trainer of his own.

 

Pikachu's right. Meowth doesn't know what it's like, good experiences or bad. He doesn't have a trainer. Nobody has ever wanted him as their pokemon; and even the ones who did surely didn't want him to train. He's not a battler like Pikachu is—he's not valuable for his power. All Meowth is really good for is a sentient pokemon-to-human translator.

 

He recalls a short, minute period of his life where at one point, he _did_ want someone to call his trainer. Back when he was just a little tyke, when he didn't know how the world worked, or how mercilessly cruel it was. Every new day, he'd see a pokemon like him walking alongside a human, walking with such glee and enchantment in their eyes, that he could only ever _imagine_ what that must have been like. In those moments, he craved that affection, that level of friendship and love that he assumed only could be obtained with a trainer.

 

But of course, no one wants a dirty, half-starved street cat as their pokemon. So alone he stays, alone, until the worst of the worst come around to save him from solitude.

 

He doesn't know what having a trainer is like. Every time he tries to think about it now, all Meowth can come up with are all the bad things. But... he supposes there is such a thing as a good trainer, even a _great_ one, at that, as hard as that is for him to believe. And suddenly, Meowth has his final topic prepared for Conversation Attempt Number Three.

 

“Hey Pikachu?” Meowth asks, almost shyly.

 

Pikachu looks back, but does not stop walking.

 

“What's it like havin' a trainer?”

 

The question stops Pikachu right in his tracks. His expression takes a dramatic shift—from shock to anger to absolute bewilderment. It takes him a few moments to even comprehend what he just heard, and even more to formulate a response.

 

“ _Huh? W-why? Why do you care?_ ” He asks, suspicion dripping heavily from his words.

 

“'Cause...” Meowth replies. “Because... I don't got one. And I probably never will... You just seem so passionate about havin' one, so I was just wonderin' what the big deal was.”

 

Pikachu is still weary; Meowth can see it in his tense form. His hesitant shifting from paw to paw, the curling of his toes. In Pikachu's eyes, Meowth can see the battle of his own thoughts as he tries to decide whether to open up or blow Meowth's inquiry off entirely.

 

Finally, he sighs. “ _It's like..._ ” He starts slowly. “ _It's like your best friend is teaching you how to be the best pokemon you can be._ ”

 

Meowth nods, not quite understanding what's so special about that, but insists that Pikachu continues. “Uh-huh?”

 

“ _I guess it's kind of like a partnership, in a way,_ ” Pikachu continues. “ _You're both working for the same thing. And it doesn't even have to be battling, either. I know a lot of pokemon that are partners with different people who don't like battling at all. But like, that doesn't matter. All that matters is that you and your trainer are working towards something,_ _ **together.**_ ”

 

Meowth nods again. The more Pikachu talks, the more his eyes sparkle.

 

“ _The whole thing's a journey. Sure, it's work, but you're bonding with your trainer the whole time. Maybe you start out a bit on the outs with him, but then he shows just how much he cares. Just how much he's willing to sacrifice to protect you and keep you safe and keep you happy. He's your_ _ **best friend**_ _, and there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. It doesn't matter if we win or lose. If we win, we celebrate, because all our hard work payed off. If we fail, then that's fine, too. We still did it together—it just means we have that much more to learn._ ”

 

He pauses for a moment, looking Meowth directly in the eyes. Meowth is almost entranced by the sheer joy and passion that shimmers in Pikachu's tawny orbs.

 

“ _I get it that you'd be hung up on all the bad trainers. I was, too,_ ” Pikachu says. “ _But... when you find a trainer that cares, like really_ _ **cares**_ _... it's like your home, no matter where you go._ ”

 

It's beautiful, what he says. Meowth feels his heartstrings tying into a knot, the tears pricking in his eyes. He may not ever want such a sappy partnership for himself, but it's certainly a sweet sentiment. Something that makes him think of his own human partners, in the same appreciative light.

 

“Wow, Pikachu,” he sniffles. “That might be the most touchin' thing I ever heard. Ya got me tearin' up over here.”

 

Pikachu scoffs. “ _Yeah, well... It's not like it matters much to you,_ ” he murmurs, returning to his earlier irked tone.

 

“Sure it does,” Meowth says. “I wouldn't a' asked if it didn't.”

 

“ _If it matters to you, then why do you keep trying to take me away from Ash?_ ”

 

“Because...” Meowth sighs. “It's a job, Pikachu. It's our job to capture every powerful and rare pokemon we find. And you're one a' those powerful and rare pokemon.”

 

Pikachu's face stays skeptical.

 

“It ain't nothin' about takin' you away from your trainer. It's just that...” Meowth presses his lips, rubbing at his arm with his paw. Suddenly he can't seem to keep eye contact with Pikachu anymore. “You're really special, Pikachu. We wouldn't a' followed you for as long as we have if you weren't.”

 

Pikachu rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. His mouth breaks out of its permanent sneer into a half-smile, one that Meowth notices, and adores. Pikachu trudges forward, leading the way once more. “ _Look. I just wanna get back to Ash,_ ” he says. “ _That's all I want right now—_ ”

 

Pikachu cuts his statement short with a yelp when a cage abruptly falls on him, trapping him within. Once he regains his composure, he tugs and pushes at the bars, desperately trying to free himself. His shaking does nothing but rattle the cage against the stone floor.

 

He tosses a fierce glare in Meowth's direction. “ _What are you doing?!_ ” Pikachu just about shrieks.

 

Meowth throws his hands up in defense, even though Pikachu is locked tightly inside. “Don't look at me, it ain't _my_ trap!” He hesitantly steps forward, eyes darting from left to right as to avoid any more traps. He catches sight of a glinting line, nearly invisible, just before the cage that dropped. Meowth bends down to take a closer look, plucking at it with his claw. “Looks like a trip wire.”

 

Pikachu rattles the cage again, yielding the same result as last time. He growls. “ _Who cares what it is? Just get me out of here!_ ”

 

“Alright, alright. Cool your jets...”

 

Meowth extends a claw, and moves closer to pick the lock. But before he can reach it, a pair of heavy duty combat boots stomp their way up to Pikachu's cage. The sudden looming presence causes Meowth to jump and scuttle back a few feet. He can only watch in shock as the owner of the boots grabs hold of Pikachu's cage, lifting him high up into the air.

 

“Well, well,” the man says. He's tall, and quite round, too, with a gruff voice and messy hair that formulates across his jaw in a thick beard. He eyes Pikachu with a keen look, his disgusting smirk showing off rows of jagged teeth. “Didn't think I'd find a pikachu in here. And a meowth, too? I guess today's my lucky day.”

 

Pikachu yells and screams and shakes the cage, letting loose a storm of crackling Thunderbolts. The prison glows with the raw energy he puts out, but the man seems no worse for wear after his attacks.

 

“Heh, you can try that all you want, little pal,” he teases. “But that cage is one-hundred percent electric proof.”

 

Just as the man cackles loudly to himself, Meowth recovers from his initial shock, then rises to his feet with a huff. “Hey! Electric-proof traps are a Team Rocket Only thing, Bub. Go find your own gimmick.”

 

For a moment, the man—Meowth decides he shall forever be dubbed 'Bub'—reclines in his stance, looking just as appalled as the cat did a few moments ago. Then he regains his composure, looking on in genuine interest. “A _talking_ meowth? It can't be.”

 

“You better believe it, Bub.”

 

Bub grins his sickening grin, fingers curled aptly around the bars of Pikachu's cage as he leans in closer to Meowth. “I bet something like you would run a pretty penny.”

 

“Yeah, well—I ain't for sale. And neither is that Pikachu.” Meowth points to the pokemon in question. From within his iron prison, Pikachu watches the exchange in fury. “So you better get to lettin' loose with that cage you got there.”

 

“Or what? The wittle _putty-tat_ will _scwatch_ me?”

 

Meowth extends his claws. Thinking a demeaning tone with mocking terminology will be the thing to deter the cat from slicing a few much-needed lines down his face? Boy is this guy a total chump. “That's right, Bub. You got a problem with that?”

 

Bub chuckles. It's dark and icky and full of snark—like he knows something Meowth doesn't. He hates it. “No problem at all.”

 

Without breaking eye contact, Bub reaches into his back pocket and produces a pokeball. Meowth flinches at the sight, suddenly regretting his choice to try and pick a fight.

 

Oh, right—Pokemon hunters _do indeed_ have pokemon of their own—right. That's a thing.

 

From within the pokeball emerges a canine creature, growling and snarling with slobber dripping from his chin in thick, viscous drips. Meowth yelps at the sight, but quickly tries to regain whatever confidence he had five seconds ago. Of course, with a pokemon so fierce like a Houndoom—with the shimmering bones framing his body and the devilish features, not to mention the fiery look in his eye that just _screams_ that he's hungry for blood—it's hard not to be just a _teeny_ bit intimidated.

 

At least, that's what Meowth tries to tell himself as his legs quake like an unstable pile of rocks beneath him.

 

Meowth lets out a nervous chuckle, eyes darting around for some sort of scape-gogoat or escape route. He turns back, his fur sticking up high with all the goosebumps he currently has. “R-right... I think this _may_ be a little one-sided. I-in _my_ favor.”

 

He takes a slow step back. Houndoom responds by taking a step forward.

 

“So, uh...” Meowth rambles, trying his best not to look Houndoom in the eye. Instead he tries to focus his attention on Bub. “Maybe we should just call it a draw and try again some other time? Maybe with you fightin' with a caterpie or somethin'?”

 

Over the vicious growling of Houndoom, Meowth can make out the blunt sound of Pikachu exasperatedly thumping his head against the bars. He gulps, looking from Pikachu, to Houndoom, back to Bub. All the man does is smirk.

 

“Houndoom—Pursuit.”

 

As soon as Houndoom moves, Meowth bolts down the cave past him like a zubat out of hell. He runs as fast as his legs can carry him, which, unfortunately, is not very fast at all. He can hear Houndoom giving chase. He hears the ferocious barks and snarls and the increasingly loud footsteps that get closer and closer with each passing second.

 

Before he even has time to register it, Houndoom is behind him. The hell hound snaps his crushing jaws at Meowth's behind, which Meowth yelps and jumps to dodge. Houndoom bites again, and again, each time just narrowly missing Meowth's tail.

 

It's not long before they reach a cavern with a pickup truck parked in the middle of it. Bub's truck, most likely. But Meowth has no time to think about it.

 

He lunges behind a sturdy-looking stalagmite—that only _looks_ sturdy, until Houndoom tackles head-first into the rock and shatters it into pieces. Meowth yells again, leaping behind another set of stones. Houndoom easily crashes through them, too, sending Meowth running.

 

Houndoom doesn't run out of steam, no matter how much he chases Meowth around. He keeps his Pursuit up without fail, chomping and clawing and lunging at Meowth, eager to sink his teeth into the cat's retreating form.

 

Every second Meowth runs, his legs burn a little more, his lungs feel more and more tight. Part of him wants to try to fight back, but—oh, criminy, there's no _time_. No opening, no chance, no relief. If he takes a moment to stop, to breathe, or even ready up an attack of his own, Meowth is sure to be mercilessly torn apart.

 

The Pursuit leads him to the truck. Without another thought, Meowth slides underneath the flatbed, crawling in as far as he can go. Houndoom tries to follow after him, but the truck's so low to the ground, his enormous size prevents him from fitting. Instead, the hell hound slams into the side, clawing and barking after Meowth. The cat laughs at Houndoom's misfortune, almost tempted to stick his tongue out in mockery. But a Flamethrower cuts his jeering attempts short.

 

Meowth rolls out of the way just in time, barely missing the engulfing flames. He pauses when he feels the fire stop, then kicks an unsettled rock into Houndoom's face. Houndoom shrieks and writhes on the ground, paws clawing at his wound. Meowth takes the opportunity to crawl out and on top of the truck's cargo while Houndoom is preoccupied.

 

Underneath his feet, obscured by the torn up tarp, Meowth can feel the rattling of cages, can hear the muffled protests of multiple pokemon. The cave pokemon Pikachu mentioned earlier, Meowth realizes. The ones Bub has no doubt been taking captive.

 

He can hear them calling out in droves, voices fluctuating from the high-pitched shrill of a zubat to the husky growl of an aron, all yelling for help. But Meowth can't help them now. He's just trying to focus on keeping _himself_ in one piece, trying to battle against a gargantuan blood-thirsty beast with no hope of winning.

 

Houndoom's twisted hisses of pain cease, and he now turns his attention back to finding Meowth. The cat keeps as low as he can, searching for some way— _any_ way—to get the jump on him.

 

He hears footsteps down the tunnel. Bub walks into the open cavern, Pikachu still in his meaty grasp. Pikachu still pulls and rattles at the bars to no avail, his eyes wide and frantic as he looks around his new surroundings, perhaps trying to locate Meowth.

 

Pikachu... He could win a fight against Houndoom. He'd wipe the floor with that pesky pooch with his eyes closed.

 

But that would require Pikachu getting _out_ of that cage.

 

“Houndoom, where's that meowth?” Bub calls out. Houndoom rounds the corner of the truck, tail tucked between his legs. He whimpers a response so quiet, Meowth can't even make it out. “You didn't let him _escape_ , did you?”

 

Houndoom barks in defiance, then presses on in his search. Meowth keeps his head low, but can't keep his eyes off of Pikachu. Oh, if he could just get Pikachu _away_ from Bub and _out_ of that cage without Houndoom noticing... The problems would just solve themselves.

 

Meowth's ears perk up at the sound of loud, frantic sniffing. A chill runs down his spine as it gets closer and closer, and he suddenly curses his forgetfulness of Houndoom's natural tracking abilities. A peek over the edge of the truck reveals Houndoom's position just below him, dangerously close to sniffing him out of his hiding spot.

 

Of course, the moment Meowth peeks over is the exact same moment Houndoom decides to look up.

 

Everything happens so fast, Meowth hardly has time to register. As soon as Houndoom spots Meowth, he lunges for him. Meowth jumps in fright, managing to leap onto Houndoom's back and off to the ground before the hell hound makes it all the way to the top.

 

Houndoom snarls in fury, and jumps right back down after him. With a yelp, Meowth runs for his life, instinctively heading for the safety Pikachu inherently emanates.

 

Bub turns at the sudden oncoming company, flinching when Meowth scurries up to his shoulder. Meowth hurriedly makes a grab at Pikachu's cage, which Bub tries to hold out of his reach. But Meowth doesn't give up—he reaches across for Pikachu, climbing atop of Bub's head and using his face as a foothold as he does.

 

“Get offa me, you filthy rat!” Bub shouts. He sputters the fur out of his mouth, trying desperately to swat Meowth off of him.

 

“Not until you gimme my pikachu back!” Meowth yells back.

 

Bub's so preoccupied with his task that he doesn't notice the seventy-pound blur of darkness and fire hurtling towards him at a breakneck pace until it's too late.

 

The collision sends Pikachu and Meowth flying. Meowth splats unceremoniously onto the hard rock ground, with Pikachu's cage tumbling just a few feet further. Behind him, he can hear the grunts and growls of Bub and Houndoom, probably trying to untangle themselves from each other. Rubbing his sore chin, Meowth pushes himself to his feet, then grabs Pikachu's cage and sprints for cover before the two dunderheads can readjust themselves.

 

Meowth sits Pikachu down behind a chiseled row of thick stalagmites. He extends his claw, fishing it into the key hole of the cage.

 

“ _What are you doing?_ ” Pikachu asks, half suspicious, half exasperated.

 

“Springin' you from this cage—what does it look like?” Meowth responds. He twists and turns his claw, tapping each and every single pin within the lock in a meticulous rhythm. “Now quiet, or they're gonna find us!”

 

“Found you.”

 

Meowth halts. With a gulp, he turns his head to see the towering figure standing above him. Bub glares right back down, Houndoom salivating right by his side. Meowth cracks a nervous grin, managing to tap in one last pin before Bub snatches him.

 

“Hey, hey, hey! Lemme go, lemme go!!” Meowth yelps, frozen stiff in Bub's grasp as he suspends him high into the air by his scruff. Bub sneers at Meowth, holding him close enough that he can smell Bub's rancid breath. Meowth's ears lower sheepishly at the glare he receives. “No hard feelings—w-we can work this out!”

 

“Not likely.”

 

Houndoom growls and slobbers, licking his chops hungrily. Meowth can feel the growing heat emanating from his mouth, the dark embers he spits out with every breath.

 

Oh boy. He's really screwed up now. No getting out of this one. It's over—

 

Metal clangs against metal, and something thuds against the ground. Every head turns, and everyone gasps at the sight of Pikachu, out of his cage and down on all fours. Sparks fly from his cheeks as he emits a low growl and readies for an attack.

 

Meowth breaks into the widest smile he can manage. Never before has he been happier to see Pikachu free from captivity, and never before has he been happier to see Pikachu so hostile.

 

“H-Houndoom, take care of him!” Bub stammers out. Houndoom barks in response and assumes a fighting stance.

 

Houndoom can't even get a single Shadow Ball off before Pikachu slams into him with a Quick Attack.

 

The hell hound crashes into the ground, but quickly pushes himself back to his feet. But it isn't long before Pikachu knocks him right back down with a powerful Volt Tackle.

 

Meowth can't help but grin. He watches with pride, ecstatic to see Pikachu triumph over the ferocious beast. “Go Pikachu! Hit 'em with an Iron Tail!!”

 

Though Pikachu gives a questioning look, he takes the suggestion and slams his steely tail into Houndoom's skull. The impact sends the hound to the floor, torchic dancing in his vision. Meowth whoops and cheers, earning a glare from Bub.

 

“Get up, Houndoom!” the man shouts. Houndoom whimpers a weak response and tries to move, but can't get up to his feet without falling. Bub lets out a low growl. “C'mon you useless mutt! Get your ass up!”

 

Pikachu turns his attention to Bub, now clearly pissed with the human. He growls out threats, none of which Bub can understand, but the hostility in his voice is easily comprehensible. But Bub is hardly deterred.

 

“You little rat,” he hisses out. His grip on Meowth's scruff tightens, making the cat wince. Then suddenly, he tosses Meowth to the floor, before breaking into a hefty run towards Pikachu. “C'mere, you!!”

 

Bub makes a sweeping grab as he nears Pikachu. But Pikachu is much quicker than him, and easily evades. Bub crashes into the floor, having put all his weight into his lunge, and lands mere meters away from Houndoom.

 

He doesn't have time to stand back up before Pikachu begins to charge up electricity.

 

Meowth watches, stars sparkling in his eyes.

 

Here it comes: the moment he's been waiting for.

 

With a passionate battle cry, Pikachu lets loose the excruciating Thunderbolt he had stored up. The surging electricity engulfs Bub, frying his insides and paralyzing his movements.

 

Without a moment's warning, the power within the Thunderbolt reaches a maximum strength, and suddenly sparks and combusts. The resulting explosion sends Bub flying, crashing right through the cave ceiling and soaring into the sky. He disappears from view with a twinkle.

 

The grin on Meowth's face is so wide, he is physically in pain.

 

“Wow,” he breathes out. “It sure is nice to see someone else blast off for a change.”

 

But once the smoke clears, the two pokemon both see the remaining opponent. Houndoom staggers, struggling to get up. He looks towards the hole in the cave's ceiling, then to Meowth and Pikachu. Meowth gulps, ducking behind a stalagmite.

 

But then Houndoom runs off. Without a word, without another attack. He runs off down a tunnel and far, far, far away from the battle scene.

 

Only then does Meowth feel it safe to breathe again. “Phew... I thought he was gonna tear us a new one...”

 

Meowth looks to Pikachu, expecting to see the same relief plastered on his face. But Pikachu isn't very enamored with the sight. The two make eye contact for a second, only a second, before Pikachu frowns and heads for the truck.

 

He pulls at the ropes suspending the traps down with his teeth, revealing the large cages of cave pokemon trapped inside. Zubat, makuhita, geodude, and aron, even a sableye and a mawile rest behind the bars, all crunched together by the limited space the cages offer. Each of them wince at the sudden light, but continue to cry out for freedom.

 

Meowth watches as Pikachu tugs on the bars, turns at the nuts and bolts, tries to get them free. He even tries breaking the bars apart with his powerful Iron Tail. But every attempt he makes leaves no impact. All the pokemon are still trapped, no matter how hard he pulls and fidgets and fights. He growls out his frustration, slamming his paws into the bars to further cement his feelings.

 

The moment is quick, but Meowth doesn't miss the small, pleading glance Pikachu sends his way. He wants something. Something Pikachu can't do but Meowth can: a very rare attribute, indeed. But of course, to help out, that would require him to show some actual decency.

 

Though the glance was small, Meowth can't get the image of Pikachu's teary eyes out of his mind. He hates that image, he realizes. He's not sure why, but seeing Pikachu so upset suddenly gets to him. Maybe because today he has obtained some knowledge about the mouse he hadn't had before, or maybe he really, truly is growing soft on him. Whatever the reason, it certainly bothers him.

 

Sure Pikachu is his enemy, and helping out trapped pokemon instead of snagging them for himself goes against everything he works for—but perhaps, this time, it's worth it. Just to see that teary-eyed gaze disappear.

 

Meowth sighs in resignation before he walks over to the truck.

 

“Scooch your booch, Pipsqueak. You're gonna hurt yourself.” Meowth climbs up to the bed of the truck, giving Pikachu a light push to the side. He looks the bars over, studying the locks with interest. With a click of his tongue, Meowth extends a claw and pushes it inside one of the keyholes.

 

“ _You're... You're helping?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

“Of course—is that such a surprise to you?”

 

“ _Well... yeah._ ”

 

Meowth finishes picking one lock. With a grin of satisfaction, he pulls the unlocked cage door open, revealing the exit for all the pokemon inside. In a cluster, the pokemon file out, quickly and cheerfully scattering amongst the cave back to their respective homes. Meowth give a small wave as they depart, then focuses his attention on the second lock.

 

In a minute, the other batch of pokemon experience freedom once again. Each of them scurry away, some mumbling a thank-you or two as they pass. Pikachu watches them go, silent, reserved; but Meowth can see the change of mood he's undertaken.

 

Once the previously captured pokemon have all disappeared, Pikachu turns his attention to the cat. “ _Why... Why did you help?_ ” He asks.

 

Meowth can only scoff and laugh. “What, do ya really think I'm gonna let pokemon get carted off by a bozo like that guy? Jeez, Pikachu—gimme a little more credit than that.”

 

“ _Yeah, but—_ ” Pikachu stammers. “ _It's not like you. You don't_ _ **help**_ _. Ever._ ”

 

“Today can't be an exception?”

 

“ _You're telling me you_ _ **don't**_ _have any plans to capture them all later to create a pokemon army for your boss?_ ”

 

Pikachu makes a great point. That would be a good idea. Too bad it's a bit too late, now. It would have been so much easier to steal all those pokemon while they were all neatly bundled up in secure cages.

 

Somehow, though, Meowth thinks there's a reason that the idea didn't come to mind before.

 

“Nope. Nothin'.” He sees Pikachu's look of wariness, the incredulity in his eyes. Meowth sighs. “Look—you seem like you ain't in the best of moods today. So I figured I'd cut you a break this time.”

 

Pikachu tilts his head, eyes widening for a split second, then narrowing. Meowth holds his arm in his paw, rocking back and forth on his heels.

 

“Plus, it...” Meowth breaks eye contact, opting to stare at the ground past Pikachu instead. Boy, does he feel sheepish saying this. “This just seemed real important to youse...”

 

Pikachu tenses for just a moment. Then his ears flatten to the back of his head, and he looks to the ground as well. “ _Well, I..._ ” he starts, probably looking for some sort of retort. Unfortunately for him, he can't find one. He sighs in resignation. “ _Yeah. It is..._ ”

 

Meowth nods, gazing towards one of the tunnels he watched a selection of pokemon file into in their retreat. “I get it,” He says. “And... I'm real sorry 'bout what I said earlier. What you been through... What you've survived....” Pikachu grows tense, but softens at Meowth's gentle tone. “Ain't no pokemon in the whole world that deserves that.”

 

The mouse nods in agreement, but elects to speak nothing more of the matter.

 

With the mess they've rectified behind them, the two move on down the cavern. They walk in relative silence, but it's a comfortable one. No longer can Meowth feel the blatant hostility in the air, nor the possibility of anything else going wrong. In fact, he's sure that he hears voices up ahead—familiar ones, welcomed ones.

 

Pikachu hears them too. But he doesn't race down just yet. “ _Hey Meowth?_ ”

 

“Yeah, Pikachu?”

 

“... _Thank you._ ”

 

Meowth cracks a grin. “Heh... It's no problem, Pikachu.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the darkness of this chapter. It seems that I can't write anything without it getting a little bit dark and depressing for someone. But don't worry--Meowth's next :)


	4. Down in the Dumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the more uncommon figures of speech my chapter titles, but I had to make an exception for this one--it works for the story, AND--it's a pun!
> 
> There's one episode I would recommend brushing up on before reading this, and that's AG022: A Hole Lotta Trouble, specifically the Meowth/Pikachu/Max portions--or rather, one in particular. You'll probably know exactly the moment I'm talking about when you watch it. It's a moment I find very... intriguing, and yet I never see anybody talking about it :/
> 
> Anyways, this chapter takes place at some unspecified time in Sinnoh, somewhere along the journey to Lake Verity

The field of grass caresses his fur lovingly as Pikachu collapses upon it. He heaves a sigh of exhaustion, relieved at the prospect of finally taking a rest. Meowth plops down beside him in a similar fashion.

 

Three days since they've been separated from their respective humans. Three days they've put up with nothing but each other's company. Pikachu has already gone on and on about the mistakes Meowth has made that have landed them in this position, but after the first day, his scolding runs out of steam. Now all Pikachu can focus on is finding Ash, and if he has to work together with his enemy to reunite with him, then so be it.

 

They have made progress, at the very least. Each day, the mountains that mark the location of Lake Verity get closer and closer in the distance. And obnoxious as he is, Meowth proves himself to be a rather resourceful traveling companion. Even if his methods are unconventional—even downright wrong, in some cases—he has kept them from going hungry or cold.

 

Meowth shows an uncanny skill for living off of what he can salvage, something Pikachu can't help but marvel at. Surely part of his experience derives from his time with Team Rocket, and the many instances they've had without resources, but Pikachu believes a part of it delves into something deeper.

 

“Thank goodness that's over,” Meowth mumbles, breaking Pikachu out of his thoughts. He stretches his arms out over his head, yawning.

 

“ _Yeah,_ ” Pikachu replies. He snuggles into the soft grass, yawning as well before rolling onto his back. “ _Where do you think we should head next?_ ”

 

“Well, we can snag some food for the road from that little convenience store we passed earlier.” Meowth pauses for a moment, considering the next step in his plan of attack. “Then... Maybe we could hitch a ride on one a' them eighteen-wheelers. That outta get us closer in no time. And hey—maybe I could convince the driver to drive us all the way there!”

 

The idea is nice, but Pikachu grows doubtful that Meowth can pull such a task off. “ _You sure about that?_ ” he questions. “ _Negotiations always seem to go wrong when it's_ _ **you**_ _doing the talking._ ”

 

“What're ya talkin' about? I'm great at negotiatin'! You're just jealous that you don't got negotiatin' skills like mine.”

 

Pikachu scoffs. “ _Sure._ ”

 

“Just you wait and see, Pipsqueak.” Meowth folds his arms behind his head as he gazes up to watch the stars dance in the night sky. Their radiant light glimmers in his eyes. “We're gonna find everyone in no time, all thanks to me and my big 'meowth.'”

 

Pikachu chuckles and shakes his head.

 

Meowth sure has a lot of confidence in himself, that's for sure. Such an over-inflated ego, fueled by an admittedly miraculous accomplishment. Pikachu can't help but wonder if Meowth was like this before Team Rocket, or even before learning human speech. Questions dance in his head, and now that they're alone with one another, with nothing but time to spare, Pikachu can't think of a reason not to ask.

 

“ _Hey Meowth?_ ” His voice rouses Meowth from his attempt at slumber. He cracks an eye open to face his traveling companion, and hums in response. “ _Why'd you learn to talk?_ ”

 

He knows Meowth has answered this before. A time where he, himself, and Max were separated from the group flashes in Pikachu's mind. But for the life of him, Pikachu can't recall the story.

 

“That's none a' your business.”

 

Pikachu blinks in surprise, not believing his ears. “ _Huh?_ ” he blurts out. “ _But why not?_ ”

 

He was sure Meowth would jump at the opportunity to talk about himself, and especially about his biggest achievement. But Meowth only frowns and turns his head towards Pikachu, his brow furrowed.

 

“'Cause every time one a' you twerps ask me that, you never bother listenin'! You just march right off on your merry way before I can finish,” Meowth huffs out. “Which, by the way, is incredibly, utterly _rude,_ believe it or not!”

 

Ah yes. Now Pikachu knows why he can't remember Meowth's story: Max had cut him off before he could tell the whole thing. “ _That was only because we had some place to go, and your story was too long to wait around for,_ ” Pikachu reasons. “ _But now we have all the time in the world. So...?_ ”

 

Meowth grunts and sticks his non-existent nose into the air.

 

“ _Don't tell me your big ol' ego got bruised from that._ ”

 

He raises his face higher with an indignant, “Hmph.”

 

“ _Please?_ ”

 

Meowth peers at Pikachu with half-lidded sapphire eyes, silently judging the mouse. For a moment, Pikachu assumes that Meowth plans to stay like this the entire night. But Meowth eventually opens his mouth to reply. “You gonna listen to the whole thing?”

 

Pikachu nods.

 

“No backin' out?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

With that affirmation, Meowth springs up into a sitting position. His face breaks into the widest grin Pikachu has ever seen.

 

“Well then, sit back, relax, and grab a few tissues while you're at it,” Meowth says, “'cause this one's a real tear jerker!”

 

Pikachu giggles a little, amused by the cat's theatrics. He does as he's told, and shifts into a more comfortable position as he patiently awaits the 'story of a lifetime'.

 

Meowth clears his throat and puts on his best storytelling voice. “It all started back when I was just a little tyke, skulking around the streets a' Hollywood with nary a bite to eat or a dollar to my name.”

 

“ _You lived in Hollywood?_ ” Pikachu cuts in, recalling his brief time in the desolate town. “ _What was that like?_ ”

 

“Horrible,” Meowth says bluntly. “Now stop interruptin', or you ain't getting' the rest a' the story.”

 

“ _Fine._ ”

 

“Now where was I?” The cat ponders his placing in his story, before suddenly recalling it. “Ah, right—Hollywood! T'was just another day in the city. I had managed to get my paws on a big, juicy fish for lunch—the first meal I had all to myself in days!” His voice suddenly goes soft, into an almost sickening lovey-dovey tone, as Pikachu always hears it being called by Ash and the others whenever Brock finds a new girl to fawn over. “But as I was chompin' down on my prize, I saw the most beautiful feline pokemon I had ever laid eyes upon!

 

“Her eyes shined like diamonds. And her fur was so silky and smooth, it was like a big fluffy cloud! Oh, and her _voice_. She had a voice like the chimin' a' _angels.”_

 

Pikachu tries to imagine the cat Meowth describes. Of course, perhaps he isn't the best visualizer, because the only thing that comes to mind is a female meowth dressed head-to-toe with ruffles and ribbons, with overly-shiny fur and sequined googly eyes, singing opera. It's obviously not what Meowth has in mind, but Pikachu doesn't feel the same wonder and amazement at the description as Meowth does, and almost bursts out laughing at the thought of his own depiction.

 

“I tried to tell here that her beauty made my heart soar, and that nothin' in the whole wide world would make me happier than to ask her out for even just one date,” Meowth continues, obviously not noticing Pikachu's momentarily distracted gaze. Suddenly, his face contorts with an overwhelming sadness, almost exaggerated. In fact, Pikachu is sure that it's completely exaggerated. “But the thing was: she had gotten so used to hangin' around humans, that she completely lost the ability to understand pokemon! So nothin' I said to her made any sense!”

 

Pikachu frowns.

 

Meowth wipes a tear from his eye—a tear that's not actually there, but he uses the action for dramatic effect, anyways. He clenches his paw into a fist as he looks straight ahead at the starry sky looming peacefully over the city. “I was determined to let her know how I felt about her. So's I spent every wakin' hour tryin' to learn how to talk human. And soon, my will to talk was even stronger than my will to survive on the streets!

 

“It took me weeks, months, a whole year to even utter out my first syllables. But after so long, I did it! I finally learned how to talk human!” His saddened expression returns with a vengeance, this time even more ridiculous. “But by the time I was prepared to talk to Meowzie again, her owner had moved away from Hollywood, takin' her with her. I tried and tried to track her down, but I couldn't find her anywhere I went. And to this day, I ain't ever seen her since...”

 

Pikachu lays silent, trying to process the story while Meowth takes an elongated pause. His frown never leaves his face. Once the moment of silence is over, Meowth perks right up, turning back to him with his usual toothy grin.

 

“So, what'd ya think, Pipsqueak?” he asks with mind-boggling enthusiasm and cockiness. “Was it anything like youse expected in your wildest dreams? Pretty depressin', huh? I know it's a real downer, but just look at me now! I'm better off than I ever coulda dreamed of!”

 

“ _Why are you lying?_ ”

 

The accusation wipes the snarky smile clean off the cat's face. It takes a moment for Meowth to process what he's just heard, and another, longer moment to come up with a reply. “Whu— _lyin'?_ ” He blurts with incredulity. “Why would I be _lyin'_? It's _my_ life story! Where do you get off, tellin' me I'm _lyin'_?”

 

“ _Because your story makes no sense!_ ” Pikachu rebukes. “ _It doesn't explain why you learned to walk on two legs. A-and Meowzie not being able to understand pokemon just because she hangs around with humans a lot? How is that even possible?_ _ **I**_ _hang out with humans all the time, and I still understand pokemon just fine!”_

 

Meowth opens his mouth for a response, but Pikachu cuts him off before he can utter out a single word.

 

“ _And you—you learned to_ _ **speak**_ _human, and_ _ **you**_ _can still understand other pokemon! So it'd be impossible for her to lose that!_ ” Pikachu keeps going, not even taking a moment to pause for breath. “ _And besides, even if she couldn't understand pokemon, then how could she tell you that? Could she not understand what_ _ **she**_ _was saying, or, or... I don't get it!_ ”

 

Dread clouds over Meowth like the calm before the storm, and for once in his life, he's rendered speechless. He tries many times to think of a rebuttal, but all he can force out are half-formed grunts. Meowth eventually accepts the sad fact that Pikachu, much to his surprise and dismay, has outsmarted him, bested him at his own game.

 

Realizing this, Meowth sighs and flops back down to the grass. “You're perceptive, Pikachu. I'll give ya that.” Meowth keeps his gaze from flitting to Pikachu, almost as if he's worried about what he'll see if he does. “I thought I had the perfect story. Not one person to this day's called me out on my crap 'cept you... Heh, then again, nobody's really let me get _through_ the whole thing 'cept you, neither.”

 

Pikachu allows himself a satisfied grin. Perhaps it's just the result of some unrealized wicked part of himself, but he finds a outstanding sense of glee upon hearing Meowth admit his own defeat at his hands. It's appealing, the feeling of outsmarting someone. It must be why Meowth prides himself on it so much.

 

But Pikachu would have to be blind not to see the sudden mood swing Meowth currently rides. No longer does he show off his cheshire grin, no longer do his eyes sparkle with the light of a thousand stars. Pikachu drops his smirk. “ _So... What really happened, then?_ ” he asks.

 

“You already got your bedtime story.”

 

“ _Yeah, and it was a complete lie. So, what's the truth?_ ”

 

Meowth flips to his side, his back to Pikachu. “It ain't that impressive, Pipsqueak. It'd bore you to tears. Now go to sleep.”

 

“ _If it doesn't matter that much, then why are you being so defensive about it? Why don't you wanna talk about it?_ ” Pikachu shifts just the slightest bit closer to Meowth's backside, slithering his way up to the cat's ear. He whispers into it, “ _What are you trying to hide?_ ”

 

It certainly sparks a reaction. Meowth turns back towards the mouse, anger etched clear on his face. “Look, I told ya: it ain't none a' your business! So just drop it, okay?!”

 

As quickly as he had shifted towards him, Meowth once again turns his back to Pikachu. He stays silent, refusing to acknowledge Pikachu's looming presence any further.

 

Pikachu, himself, is at a loss for words. It's not the first time he's seen Meowth so despondent, but he certainly didn't expect this type of reaction about a topic seemingly so simple.

 

He's definitely hiding something. Pikachu just can't figure out what Meowth could possibly _want_ to hide.

 

Pikachu decides not to press the issue any further. If Meowth wants to talk, then he'll talk. If he doesn't, then... Pikachu doubts Meowth will be able to keep his mouth shut for very long. But unless he wants a face full of Fury Swipes, Pikachu assumes it's best just to let him be until the right time comes. He supposes even Meowth is entitled to keep his skeletons in the closet, strange as the idea is.

 

“ _Alright... I'm sorry,_ ” Pikachu murmurs. He shuffles away from Meowth's side, putting a considerable distance between himself and the cat when he finds his new resting space. He sinks into the grass, giving Meowth one last look before closing his eyes. “ _Good night..._ ”

 

Meowth mumbles something that sounds remotely like 'good night', but the words are so jumbled with grievance and misery, Pikachu can't be certain that that's what Meowth said.

 

Pikachu pretends not to notice the way Meowth tosses and turns through half the night.

 

* * *

 

“Look't what the cat dragged in.”

 

Meowth can't resist a snicker at his on-the-spot pun as he returns to the bench Pikachu patiently waits atop of. He holds his paws behind his back, concealing whatever 'well-earned' prize he's grabbed a hold of from Pikachu's view. Pikachu gives him the attention he desires in the form of a glare, and bitterly awaits the reveal.

 

“Ta-daaa!”

 

Meowth brandishes his haul-away with a gleaming smile. In his clutches lies a rather sizable bar of chocolate, its neatly wrapped foil packaging marked with the brand name Pikachu recognizes as the expensive brand that Ash and the others can never afford. Such a glorious item should be burning holes through Meowth's paws, from how valuable it is. The cat's not fit to look at it, much less hold it.

 

“Not too bad a haul, if I do say so, myself.” Meowth praises himself with the widest, self-fulfilling grin he can muster. Pikachu, however, doesn't quite share his glee.

 

“ _Where'd you steal_ _ **that**_ _one from?_ ” he questions, eyeing the candy in question with a sneer.

 

It's a disgusting habit they've fallen into over the past few days. Ever since they've been separated from their respective humans, they have had to give in to some rather unorthodox methods of scrounging up a meal just to get by: whether it be picking berries off of trees, digging unfinished food out of the trash, or Meowth's newly proposed method: shoplifting.

 

The act comes naturally to Meowth, the criminal that he is. It's clear in his actions that he doesn't hold a single shred of guilt for what he does. Quite the contrary, he considers himself to be a professional, given his long history of it. In his eyes, the only thing that is regrettable about stealing is the possibility of being caught.

 

But Pikachu can't bring himself to agree with Meowth's methods of finding food. He'll happily pick fruit, try to make something on his own, or even scour through the garbage, disgusting as that is. But he draws the line at stealing.

 

Nevertheless, Meowth feigns shock and hurt, clutching a paw to his chest in an offended manner. “What're ya tryin' to say?! That I can only get somethin' like this by stealing it?” he gasps. Pikachu's unwavering stare serves as his response. Meowth tuts and waggles his finger. “For your information, Pipsqueak: some nice lady _gave_ this to me.”

 

“ _Likely story,_ ” Pikachu says.

 

“Hey! For once in my life, I ain't lyin'!” Meowth turns his head to look back at the convenience store behind them, his eyes lighting up when he spots a plump, well-dressed woman walking out. “Look! That's the lady right there!”

 

Meowth gives a big wave to the woman. She notices him, some mixed look of amazement and unease on her face, and she waves back with much less enthusiasm before making her way down the street.

 

“ _What did you tell her?_ ” Pikachu questions. There's no doubt in his mind that Meowth didn't somehow con that poor woman into giving him free stuff.

 

“Nothin', 'cept 'thank you,'” Meowth responds. He unravels half of his delicacy, breaking off a sizable chunk. “She just saw me lookin' at this all hungry-like, and thought I was cute. So she bought it for me! Want some?”

 

Pikachu only answers with his aggravated silence. Whether his story is true or not, there's no returning the candy now. Whatever value that chocolate bar once had is now forever soiled by Meowth's grubby, filthy paws.

 

Meowth shrugs at Pikachu's despondence, clearly not at all bothered by this turn of events like Pikachu is. He tosses the chunk of chocolate into his mouth. “Y'know, I was surprised, too,” he says in between the smacks of his lips as he chews. “I mean, I know I'm cute and all, but I ain't ever been given free junk for it.”

 

He swallows.

 

“Just goes to show what a little charm can do.” Meowth taps an acicular claw to his charm, the sound of contact a metallic ping. Pikachu rolls his eyes. “Don't gimme that look! If we was relyin' on little ol' me from the beginnin', instead a' followin' _your_ 'initiation', we woulda already been back with—”

 

“Oh, what a horrible, mangy thing!”

 

The two pokemon swivel their heads to gaze upon their conversation's intruder. An old, crotchety woman, with mangled gray hair and pointed glasses, twists her wrinkled face into a disgusted sneer as she peers down at them. Meowth looks to Pikachu, who offers nothing but a simple shrug.

 

“Well that ain't a very nice thing to say,” Meowth responds. “He's just a pikachu.”

 

Pikachu groans and pulls at his face in frustration.

 

The old woman hobbles a little closer, readjusting her crooked glasses as she focuses on Meowth. Her face falls into an even deeper scowl. She makes a noise of horror. “What a disgusting, vile creature! Back!” She grips at her cane, and swings it violently at the cat. He yelps as he just barely avoids getting smacked in the face. “ _Back_ , I say!”

 

She swings again, and Meowth dodges again. Pikachu watches from atop of the bench, unsure of what to make of the situation, or more importantly, what to do. He puts his paws up in the lady's direction, murmuring out multiple pleas for her to calm down. But she hardly notices his presence at all, and continues her rampage.

 

“Lady, what the hell is your problem?!” Meowth shouts. He ducks underneath the swinging cane, the whiskers atop his head pushed by the wind the swing generates. At the sound of his words, the woman's sneer twists and deepens to an even uglier degree.

 

“ _Silence_ , you mangy devil!” She continues to rant. “Go back to the depths of hell from whence you came, you rotten abomination! You loathsome _freak!!_ ”

 

Meowth pauses in his evasive maneuvers for just a second. And that second is all the woman needs to bring her cane down hard onto his skull.

 

It all happens so fast, Pikachu almost misses it. One moment, Meowth is dazed, clutching his head as it spins from the wound he has undoubtedly obtained. The next, he's halfway across the street, just narrowly dodging the oncoming traffic.

 

Pikachu hears the woman crying insults after him, but doesn't register a thing she says. Instead, all he can focus on is trying to keep Meowth in his sights.

 

“ _Meowth!_ ” He tries to call out after him. He sees Meowth among the sea of headlights a few lanes down, and he also sees the car that's so quickly approaching. Pikachu hears the screeching brakes. He hears the blaring horn. Then he hears the loud thud.

 

“ _ **Meowth!!**_ ”

 

He's gone. He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he got hit, there's no _way_ Meowth survived a collision like that, he's gone, he's gone, he's _gone_ —

 

Pikachu squeezes his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his ears. He only opens them again when he makes out the faintest sound of claws against metal.

 

The thud was nothing more than Meowth jumping on top of the car as it rear-ends the vehicle in front of it. Through teary eyes, Pikachu watches Meowth stumble off the hood and scurry his way into a dark alley on the opposite end of the street. The mouse clutches a paw to his chest, letting out the breath he had been holding in for an eternity.

 

“Good riddance...” The woman murmurs.

 

Pikachu turns to her with the fury of a thousand suns in his eyes. He shouts and screams with all the rage he can conjure up, letting out some choice words and phrasing he knows he'll be glad that she can't understand once he comes back to his senses.

 

He doesn't stick around for very long to see her reaction. In seconds, Pikachu hops off the bench, swiping the candy bar Meowth dropped in his daze before making a beeline after the cat. At this point, traffic has come to a complete standstill from the red lights, making maneuverability between the cars easy.

 

Pikachu follows the path Meowth took into the alley. Around the dank, dingy hallway, Pikachu can see little more than clothes lines and fire escapes. He takes a step forward, almost hesitant to step into the darkness.

 

“ _Meowth...?_ ” Pikachu calls out. There is no answer. Pikachu rubs at his arms in an anxious stupor, wondering if perhaps Meowth has gone farther than just the alley. “ _Meowth? You can come out now—that lady's gone! Where are you?_ ”

 

He hears nothing but the overhead fluttering of murkrows' wings.

 

Pikachu peeks into every nook and cranny, searching for any possible hiding places Meowth might have squeezed himself into. No trace of him in sight, but Pikachu can pick up the faintest scent of the cat wafting through the air. He follows his nose until he comes face to face with a dumpster at the other end of the alleyway.

 

Putrid smells from the garbage overwhelm whatever trace Pikachu had of Meowth. As disgusting as the thought is, Pikachu figures it would be a decent hiding place for Meowth to crawl into. If nothing else, it wouldn't hurt anything but his nose to check and see.

 

Pikachu hops his way up the stacked bags of trash, lifting himself high enough so he can see over the open lid of the dumpster. The scent immediately assaults him, but he pushes through it and peeks over anyway. “ _Meowth...?_ ”

 

Half the garbage lying dormant inside is shrouded by darkness underneath the second lid. But within that blackness, Pikachu can spot two glowing blue eyes staring right back at him.

 

“ _There you are!_ ” Pikachu hops into the dumpster, landing ungracefully on top of the filth. He ignores the squishiness beneath his feet, instead hobbling over to meet his companion wedged inside. “ _You okay? Are you hurt? Don't scare me like that! I thought you got hit by that car, an-and I just—I was worried, and I—_ ”

 

Pikachu cuts his rant short when he realizes Meowth hasn't spoken a single word. Not a hum of acknowledgment, not a long, drawn-out rant of his own, nothing. In fact, Meowth makes a distinct _lack_ of eye contact with Pikachu, instead taking a profound interest in his feet.

 

“ _Erm... Meowth?_ ”

 

It's not like him to be so silent. It's unsettling—unnerving, even. Pikachu hesitates to get closer, but pushes through his unease in order to get a better look at Meowth's face.

 

The cat's been chewing on his lip for quite some time now. His eyes are glassy, unfocused. Upon Pikachu's sudden closeness, Meowth reclines his knees further into his chest, his tail curled protectively around his ankles. He doesn't say a word.

 

“ _Meowth... What's wrong? Are you okay?_ ” Pikachu asks again. Worry creeps into his voice. He can't help it: Meowth isn't meant to be this quiet. He should be smiling and laughing and talking, for goodness sakes, _talking_. And yet he does nothing. Nothing but sit and stare and keep his mouth sealed shut in a rigid line.

 

Pikachu hates it.

 

“ _Meowth, please, talk to me!_ ” he tries again. “ _What's wrong?_ ”

 

Meowth glances up for just a moment. His wide sapphire eyes—even in the dark, they shimmer—stare with a tremble right into Pikachu's own. The corners of his mouth stretch into a jagged, uneven grin, lips quivering and twitching. Meowth lets out a small, fake laugh, the humor devoid in his tone. “Nothin' to worry about, Pikachu, I... I'm just laughin' 'bout what that lady said. I-I mean, what a riot, right? I—I just... I—”

 

Then his head dips. Then he chokes out a sob.

 

Pikachu is at his side in an instant, holding his paw to Meowth's shoulder as it racks and shudders with each quaking breath he takes. He's at a loss for words. Sure, the lady had spat some nasty terminology at him, but Meowth couldn't be taking what she said seriously... could he?

 

Pikachu attempts to pull Meowth into a hug, but he pulls away. The cat weeps viciously into his hands, horrible gasps and whimpers escaping his lungs. Pikachu can only watch in horror, saddened that he has no clue as to how to help ease whatever pain Meowth must be in.

 

He has seen Meowth cry before. In truth, it's not a very rare sight; Meowth, and Jessie and James, too, are pretty famous amongst him and his friends for being world-renowned crybabies. But Meowth usually finds the most minute things to fall into an emotional turmoil over: a stubbed toe, a broken claw, a reunion with his friends after being separated for only a few hours—he's cried when people have shown him kindness and common decency.

 

But it doesn't take an expert to know that this breakdown isn't anything like the others. Meowth is hurting, for whatever reason. Something's affected him more than it should have, brought some ugly truth to his mind that perhaps he kept hidden for a reason.

 

Pikachu pats Meowth on the back, rubbing circles in his fur to make him feel just a little bit more comfortable. Pikachu's scared, he realizes. Never did he think that he would see Meowth so low, so broken. He hates that he doesn't know how to fix him.

 

Meowth wipes his face, suddenly turning to Pikachu with his eyes puffy and red, and a scowl so deep and terrible, Pikachu cringes. When he speaks, Pikachu's unnerved by the pure anguish in his tone.

 

“You wanna know _why_ I learned to talk?!” Meowth all but shouts. Pikachu retracts his paw, startled by his voice. “I learned to talk 'cause I wanted to _mean_ something to someone! 'Cause I was just a stupid _kid_ that thought I'd ever stand a _chance_ with someone like Meowzie. That if I tore myself apart and put myself back together again as a human, she'd give me the time a' day!

 

“But the world don't work like that! You try and try and beat y'self up and fuck up so bad, you're bleedin' out! I screwed up, okay? I screwed up so bad, I can't even begin to remember what it was like before! And now I _can't_ go back. I'm stuck like this forever.

 

“All to impress some girl who didn't think me worth the dirt on her claw. I threw away _everything_ I had, all my potential, _my whole life_... And she didn't even _care_. She looked at me, and she saw _**nothin'**_...” Tears plop to his knees from down his cheeks. Meowth makes no attempt to wipe them away. “Nothin' but a mutant freak, waste a' space....”

 

Nothing but the blaring of car horns and the passing traffic fills the dead air. Pikachu is stunned into silence, frozen in his place. He never takes his eyes off of Meowth, who slumps forward on trembling arms, weeping his profound sorrows.

 

“A-and she was right, ya know?” he keeps going. “Why _would_ she waste her time with some creep like me? I wouldn't want anything to do with me, either. I mean, what kinda pokemon would be stupid enough to try and be a human? Who'd wanna be with some freak who tried to be somethin' he ain't got no hope a' bein'?”

 

Pikachu understands why Meowth had refused to open up last night. He would be hesitant to reveal such a tragic tale, too.

 

His biggest accomplishment is also his worst regret. Pikachu can think of a more bitter irony.

 

It's not like he hasn't noticed something off about Meowth's attitude about it before. Whether he asks them to or not, _everybody_ notices the unnatural and grotesque phenomenon that is a talking pokemon. And everyone reacts differently.

 

Thinking back, Pikachu recalls most of the humans Meowth shares his ability with are astonished by his talent. Professors and doctors marvel at the words he produces; some even want to claim him as their own just so they can study this unusual spectacle. Like Meowth is nothing more than a simple lab experiment.

 

Pikachu also sees the way some pokemon look at him. The way they question silently amongst themselves, ' _Why, just why, would a pokemon want to do something so horrible to himself?_ ' And if Pikachu can hear what they spout about him, he can only imagine that Meowth must, as well.

 

' _It's unnatural,_ ' they say. ' _Disgusting, even. Scientists must have done something_ _ **awful**_ _to him to make him so freakish._ '

 

But they don't know. They don't know that Meowth regrets it. They don't know that his decision keeps him up at night, keeps him from belonging to any group he may have once been a part of. He's not a human. He's barely even a pokemon.

 

He's stuck in some cold, lonely limbo. Stuck, without someone to help pull him out.

 

Pikachu twiddles his fingers nervously, biting his lip before attempting to respond. “ _Meowth..._ ” He says, his voice low and soft. “ _You're not a waste of space. You're not a freak, either._ ”

 

Meowth sniffles. “You hafta say that. You're too nice...”

 

“ _I mean it. What Meowzie said, a-and that lady back there—they're wrong, they're all wrong. They don't know what you've been through. They don't know what you've done,_ ” Pikachu continues.

 

“Why do you suddenly care? We ain't friends.”

 

Pikachu casts his gaze to the garbage heap that bakes in the sun's light through the open lid.

 

“ _Because nobody deserves to be treated like that. Not even you._ ” He sighs; his ears fall to the back of his head. “ _I know we're not friends. I know we don't get along really well. I know we argue and fight a lot, a-and sometimes you just make me wanna tear my fur out. But honestly?_ ” He takes a long breath. “ _I think you might be the most amazing pokemon I've ever met._ ”

 

“....Huh?”

 

When Pikachu meets Meowth's eyes again, the cat is dumbstruck; outright flabbergasted. His expression, though still drenched in tears, demands for an explanation.

 

“ _I mean... I could never even_ _ **dream**_ _of learning human talk. And neither can any other pokemon I know. Think about it: humans haven't even learned how to speak pokemon yet; and then there's you. You... You mastered it. You did something no one else has ever done. That's... amazing._ ”

 

Meowth continues to look a bit skeptical, but Pikachu holds his attention with ease.

 

“ _And I've met legendaries before. They're all amazing, 'cause, well—they're legendaries. They're supposed to be amazing. But you... You're just a regular, everyday pokemon. And yet, you accomplished..._ ” he gestures to Meowth in a circular motion, “ _ **this**_ _. That's_ _ **amazing**_ _. And if Meowzie, or that lady, or anyone else can't see how amazing that is, then... Well then, that's their loss._ ”

 

Meowth stares for a moment, perhaps pondering what Pikachu suggests. But it's not long before his face droops once more.

 

“You're just sayin' that...” He mumbles.

 

“ _I'm not!_ ” Pikachu insists. “ _Think of it this way: if you hadn't learned how to talk, then you never would've joined Team Rocket. You never would've met Jessie and James._ ”

 

The wince in Meowth's face doesn't go unnoticed by Pikachu. He knows he's hit a tender spot there. He decides to take it just a step farther.

 

“ _You and me... We probably never would've met, either._ ” Pikachu watches Meowth's expression morph from sadness to one of thoughtfulness. “ _I know we're not friends... but I'm really glad I met you. We've had some really fun times together. I kinda like it when we get separated from everyone like this—'cause when your not around everybody, you can be really nice, and funny, and good. And I feel like we make a good team. I mean, it's not like I enjoy being constantly stalked and caught by you... But I'm glad Team Rocket sent you instead of some other pokemon._ ”

 

Meowth gazes right into Pikachu with teary, reddened eyes. But they sparkle with gratitude and appreciation, a glow that Pikachu has never seen from him before. Meowth intakes a loud, mucus-filled sniffle, then wipes his eyes dry.

 

“You really mean that?” he asks. His voice is on the verge of breaking all over again, but Pikachu can hear the hopefulness welling up inside it. He smiles and offers Meowth's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

 

“ _Every word._ ”

 

In the blink of an eye, Pikachu is suddenly tackled into a tight, bone-crushing hug. He struggles to regain his breath for a second, but eventually grins and returns the gesture. Against the crook of his neck, Pikachu feels the moisture of Meowth's eyes, the movement of his mouth as he whispers thank-yous over and over again into his fur. Pikachu simply nods in response, occasionally giving Meowth's back a comforting pat.

 

They break apart, a faint smile adorning Meowth's lips. He sighs again. “Thank you....” He repeats once more. “I think that mighta been the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me...”

 

He's met with a reassuring grin from Pikachu. “ _You're welcome_ ,” he says.

 

Part of Pikachu feels strange about sharing such personal thoughts with his enemy, much less using them in an attempt to cheer him up. But he means every word. Something about this kooky cat brings him joy on the oddest occasions. They have their differences—oh, if only he could count all the differences they have—but they have so much in common, too. They're not friends, but maybe, in some instances, they could pass as such, or even just as acquaintances. Whatever the case, they're more than just friendly rivals.

 

He suddenly remembers the half-eaten chocolate bar in his hand. Pikachu gives it a quick glance, simply to make sure that it hasn't inadvertently found a new home in the garbage. Then, once he's sure it's clean, he offers it to Meowth. “ _Here_ ,” he says. “ _You dropped this._ ”

 

Meowth gawks in bewilderment, then snatches the candy bar from Pikachu's paw. “No way...” He looks up to Pikachu to confirm that the mouse is, in fact, offering him this gift. “You really kept this for me?”

 

“ _Mm-hmm_.”

 

“Thanks!” Without a second thought, Meowth tears open the rest of the foil, his mouth dripping hungrily with saliva. He discards the wrapping amongst the rest of the trash, then looks up at Pikachu again. There's a certain shyness in his eyes that Pikachu can't help but notice. “You, uh... You want some?”

 

Pikachu is still half-convinced that Meowth pilfered that prize somehow, but he supposes there is no returning it now, now that half of the chocolate is devoured and the other half is coated in rotting stench. He nods.

 

Meowth grins. He grabs a hold of both sides of the bar, and applies pressure until it snaps in two. “Oh...” Meowth murmurs. So like himself, he has broken the chunk into two pieces, but one greatly outsizes the other. His ears flatten; he heaves a sigh and holds out the bigger half to Pikachu. “Here. You take it.”

 

But Pikachu shakes his head and pushes Meowth's offering away. “ _No... you deserve it,_ ” he says.

 

“Really?”

 

“ _Yeah_.”

 

“Gee, you really are the best.” Meowth smiles again. Pikachu takes the other piece, and they chow down in glee. The chocolate is sweet and rich, with just the right amount of creaminess. It melts in Pikachu's mouth, filling his taste buds with a bliss he's not sure he's experienced before. Sure, the foul taste of the garbage diminishes the experience, but it's still satisfying all the same. Looking upon Meowth, he knows he certainly feels that same bliss, too.

 

As he finishes his last bite, Pikachu views a quick once-over on Meowth's form. It's only when Pikachu's eyes land on Meowth's pristine, shining charm, that he remembers that Meowth has taken a hit. “ _How's your head?_ ” Pikachu asks.

 

“Huh?”

 

“ _Where that lady hit you,_ ” Pikachu clarifies. “ _Does it hurt?_ ”

 

Meowth pokes at his wound with an experimental finger. His wincing tells Pikachu everything he needs to know. “Yeah...” Meowth sighs.

 

“ _Let me see it._ ”

 

Meowth unsurely leans his head forward as an open invitation for Pikachu to examine it. Pikachu stands up and carefully parts the fur hiding the damage.

 

He can see a bruise beginning to form. Thankfully, it doesn't look too bad; despite Meowth's winces of pain at the touch, his wound doesn't seem to have any lasting impact.

 

“ _You should be fine,_ ” Pikachu says.

 

“That's good,” Meowth replies. “For a second there, I was worried I'd hafta undergo surge—”

 

He's interrupted by the sudden kiss Pikachu plants atop his wound.

 

It's strange. Not many things stop Meowth from talking, let alone finishing his thought. But something Pikachu did suddenly has Meowth in the state of a bluescreening video phone, face tamato berry red and voice like an unending dial tone.

 

“W-w-w-what did you do _that_ for?” He stutters out.

 

Pikachu tilts his head, watching the broken cat with inquisitive eyes. “ _You kiss a wound to make it feel better,_ ” He says, like it's the most common knowledge in the world. Meowth has to have known that myth—it's a human thing, isn't it?

 

“Yeah, but—don'tcha got a problem with kissin' your _enemy??_ ”

 

“ _...No?_ ”

 

Pikachu really has no idea why Meowth is acting the way he is. It's just a forehead kiss.

 

“ _Does it at least feel better?_ ” He asks.

 

Meowth pauses in his bout of blabbering like a buffoon. He taps at his bruise again, lips quirking into a grin with each touch. “Hey, it does!”

 

Pikachu shares his glee with a smile of his own. “ _See? It's fine._ ”

 

The cat laughs in triumph. Once he's over marveling at the magic of placebo healing, his starry eyes land on his companion. “Thanks, Pikachu,” He says. His smile softens, his gaze falling to his feet. The redness of his cheeks returns. “You're a real pal.”

 

It's not like him to be sheepish. But Pikachu would prefer a sheepish Meowth to a depressed Meowth any day.

 

“ _You're welcome,_ ” Pikachu says. “ _I'm just glad I could help—_ ”

 

His statement is interrupted by the sound of ear-piercing beeps coming from outside. The two cover their ears and look around frantically, faces scrunched in equal amounts of pain.

 

“What _is_ that?!” Meowth shouts, having to compete against the blaring.

 

“ _I don't know!_ ”

 

As quickly as it starts, the beeping stops. Meowth and Pikachu heave a sigh, loosening their tight grip on their heads. They relax for a moment, trying to regain their hearing—until the ground begins to rumble and the walls begin to shift.

 

With a shout, Meowth lunges for Pikachu, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Pikachu mirrors his sentiment once the gravity of the dumpster changes. The bin turns sideways. Trash starts to topple out of the opening, and it's not long before Meowth and Pikachu follow suit.

 

They barely have time to register their landing projection. Only at a quick glance does Pikachu realize that if they fall along with the garbage, they're going to fall into a dark hole with a metal panel compactor awaiting their arrival.

 

He acts before even thinking. Once they begin to fall, Pikachu keeps his grip tight on Meowth's hide with one paw, and grabs a hold of the opening's ledge before they can fall in completely with the other. Then, with all the strength he has, he tosses Meowth up to the top, and climbs his way up after him.

 

They scramble their way to the very top, and only stop when the ground beneath their feet levels out completely.

 

The dumpster falls from the crane it's held in, landing safely back in its original home within the darkness of the alleyway. Pikachu lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and chances a glance at Meowth. The cat mirrors his actions, eyes so wide they look like they're about to pop out of his skull. They share this look for a good long minute.

 

Once the truck they have landed on rumbles back to life, they laugh.

 

“Guess we got our ride,” Meowth wheezes out between giggles.

 

“ _Yeah,_ ” Pikachu responds. “ _Too bad it's gotta be this smelly._ ”

 

“Hey, a ride's a ride; I ain't complainin'!”

 

* * *

 

The warm rays of the sun caress Pikachu's fur with a gentle tenderness. Their pleasant and soft hold lulls him into a state of bliss. He forgets that he's riding on the top of a garbage truck. He forgets that his enemy is only a shoulder's length away, sitting in the same peaceful serenity as him. He forgets that only a mere hour ago, Meowth poured his heart and soul out to him simply because of a bad experience and some hurtful words.

 

Pikachu begins to nod off, trusting that Meowth will wake him, should they arrive at their destination. His body slumps against Meowth's unconsciously, and though he feels the cat's muscles tense at his touch, Pikachu is too tired to bother readjusting himself.

 

Before he drifts completely into the world of slumber, Pikachu hears Meowth mumble to the open air, “What are we, Pikachu? If we ain't friends... We ain't enemies... If we ain't secretly in love or nothin'....” before he rests his own head against his.

 

“Whatever we are... I'm sure glad we became it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time as we delve into why Gillian's favorite hiding place for Meowth is a dumpster--same Krazyshipping time, same Krazyshipping channel
> 
>  
> 
> .....
> 
>  
> 
> Spoiler alert, we won't actually find that out.


	5. Off Color

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but everytime I write fics, chapters 5-7 always get reaaaaaally lengthy, and very Nervous Zone-y for me. Though, in this fic, it's less of a Nervous Zone, and more of a Lord Jesus Here We Go Zone.
> 
> Anyway, as I've mentioned before, these chapters take place in chronological order, one in each region Ash and Co/Team Rocket visit. And as you can see, we're at the fifth chapter, and the fifth region is Unova.
> 
> So for once, I do have a specific setting for this chapter: towards the tail-end of the Meowth arc, after The Beartic Mountain Feud but before Crisis From the Underground Up. So, I would definitely recommend at least reading a summary or something of those few episodes; I mean, as long as you can recall the ba s ics of each episode, you should be fine, but I guess it never really hurts to refresh yourself ^^
> 
> Now, I have a confession.... I didn't actually watch the Black and White series. Like, at all, except for the Meowth Arc and a few other episodes. So, if there's any incorrect statements in this chapter, I must apologize. I thi nk I'm fine with just the Meowth arc and a general knowledge of the series under my belt, but if there's any inaccuracies, that's why.
> 
> Also, forewarning--this chapter harbors a rather awkward conversation. Awkward, in the sense that I've never really covered this topic in a fanfic before until now, and I'm just... not sure that I did a good job with it. I tried to make it fit into the characters' tongues as best as possible, but--it always feels a bit off to me to have characters that aren't in a modern setting talking about it. So you'll have to be the judge of whether I did a decent job of it. It's a pretty early conversation, so it'll go by fast, but still....
> 
> Also there's a bit more headcanon dump here. Anyhoo, that's about it for now. Enjoy

Living with the twerps sure is an experience.

 

It's about all Meowth expected: nice, relaxing meals, day by day travels either spent in the sickening calm or in the dangerous waters of debating over who got who lost, helping everyone in sight who so much as stubs their toe. Everyone pitches in with chores, everyone helps around, everyone is so _disgustingly nice to each other._

 

The twerps and their pokemon have arguments, yes—but their disputes rarely last over half an hour. A simple apology for somebody's wrongdoing, and everything is fixed. Hell, they're all even coming to terms with Meowth traveling along with them, with the exceptions of the hard-to-please Snivy and oh-so-dubious Pikachu. No hard feelings except for perhaps a small quip about his past atrocities. And that's about all he expects out of the twerps.

 

Living among them is definitely an experience, one that Meowth is not sure he would recommend.

 

Of course, traveling with the twerps means Meowth has that much more time to spend hanging around Pikachu.

 

Everything has taken such a drastic turn since Sinnoh. Not just with Team Rocket's new division in dealing with more serious operations—though, that's definitely something he needed time to get used to—but with Pikachu, too. Something has changed. Something is... not quite right, and Meowth can't, for the life of him, figure out what it is.

 

Maybe it's because he and Jessie and James haven't spent nearly as much time trying to capture the electric rodent. Perhaps it's because Meowth has just taken part of an abundance of overly heinous crimes recently, much more drastic than he's used to, and a guilty part of him feels like he's not quite fit to be so close to Pikachu. Maybe it's because Meowth knows he's going to betray them all soon, and he knows that Pikachu will react the most violently.

 

Whatever the case, Meowth feels a sort of awkwardness being in such close proximity to Pikachu for so long.

 

And it's clear that Pikachu feels the same way, though he's much more vocal about his disdain. It's clear that Pikachu feels that same awkwardness that Meowth feels, that distance that has come between them.

 

Though, it's different with Pikachu. Pikachu feels that awkwardness because he doesn't trust Meowth's 'change of heart'. He thinks that such a thing is too good to be true. Rightfully so, in truth—Pikachu shows off his exceeding perception once again.

 

Neither are keen on being around each other. But Meowth—for whatever reason—feels that his own discomfort has nothing to do with Pikachu once again being right about his true intentions. It's not the same. Meowth just can't quite put his finger on what the problem is.

 

“Hey Pikachu,” Ash greets his star player, crouching down to his level and giving him a chin scratch. Pikachu revels in the touch, tail wagging happily behind him. “How're you doing, buddy?”

 

Pikachu chatters out a reply that Ash can't quite understand, but the human gets the gist just fine. Pikachu hops into Ash's lap, reclining into the comfort of Ash's jacket.

 

“We're almost to Nimbasa—we'll be there in a day or two, I think,” Ash continues, idly scratching the fur encasing Pikachu's neck. As Meowth watches from afar, he can't help but think that the mouse is going to actually melt from the pleasure. “Then we'll fight the Nimbasa Gym and earn our Bolt Badge! You excited?”

 

Two tiny fists pump into the air, followed by an enthusiastic shout.

 

“But we need to pick up a few things, first.”

 

Pikachu looks up with inquisitive eyes. He tilts his head curiously.

 

“I'm gonna send Snivy and Oshawott out to find some pecha berries, and I got Tepig, Scraggy, and Tranquill looking around for some rawst berries,” Ash explains. “We still have potions and all, but I know you guys like the berries more. Anyway, we still need some cheri berries. Think you can help out?”

 

Pikachu thinks for a small second, then springs up to his feet in a joyous pose. He nods and chirps his agreement, to which Ash smiles.

 

“Alright, great!” Then he gets the least bit dejected. “You think you'll be okay going on your own? Cilan needs my help with something, so I gotta stay here for a while...”

 

The sheer joy dissipates just the slightest bit, but Pikachu still nods.

 

Ash ruffles the top of his head. “Sorry I can't come, buddy. But you got this—I know you'll be fine on your own.”

 

“Why don't you have Meowth go with him?” Iris suddenly joins the conversation. Pikachu cringes upon hearing the words. “That cat's done nothing but laze around all day.”

 

“I have _not_ ,” Meowth calls back, his ears catching that snide remark. “I helped out washin' dishes this mornin'.”

 

“Yeah— _your_ dish.”

 

“What, that ain't enough?”

 

“You're supposed to put in work with _everything_ we do—not just your portion,” Iris counters. “If you're gonna use up all our supplies, the _least_ you can do is help out with cleaning them.”

 

Ash ponders, eyes flicking from Meowth to Pikachu, back to Meowth again. “I suppose it wouldn't hurt.” The growing cringe envelops Pikachu's face. “What do you think, Meowth?”

 

Meowth stands to attention and makes his way over to the trio of twerps, nodding vigorously. “I'd be _glad_ to help out!” He grins. “It's the _least_ I can do to repay all a' youse for your _lovely_ hospitality.”

 

“That's great!” Ash exclaims. He then turns back to Pikachu, whose sneer could not get any deeper. “And Pikachu—maybe if you two work together for a little while, you'll be able to trust Meowth better.”

 

Pikachu stares back with such incredulity that one might think that he just heard that muk are actually very clean and non-toxic pokemon.

 

“C'mon, Pikachu, it won't be that bad. Meowth's learned his lesson—just look at him.”

 

Meowth nearly cackles at the sentiment. But he instead settles for a wide, friendly, not-at-all-shit-eating grin. “He's right, ya know. Now that my Team Rocket days are ancient history, there ain't nothin' I wanna do 'cept help you guys out in any way I can.”

 

Boy, this niceties charade is going to be the death of him.

 

Pikachu rolls his eyes. But he eventually heeds his friend's request.

 

“Great!” Ash cheers. “It'll be fine, Pikachu—maybe you two will even have fun together.”

 

“Don't have too much fun, though,” Iris adds. “We _do_ need those berries, you know. Cilan's got a surprise prepared for dinner tonight.”

 

“Dinner surprise? That sounds like _fun!_ ” Meowth says with a disgusting amount of forced enthusiasm. “C'mon, Pikachu—time's a' wastin'!”

 

He puts his arm around Pikachu's shoulders, noting just how soft and silky his fur is. Pikachu shrinks in his touch.

 

“Just meet us back here when you're done, okay guys?” Ash asks.

 

“No sweat! Those berries are as good as ours!” Meowth hates being so agreeable, but if he wants to keep the twerps' trust, he knows he has to.

 

Pikachu can only sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

“Isn't this great, Pikachu? You and me out on a whirlwind adventure, nothin' but time to ourselves, alone and away from the crowd? Ain't life just grand?”

 

He can feel Pikachu's attempts at burning holes through his head with his mind. Fortunately, though, Pikachu is not a psychic pokemon.

 

“ _It's not an adventure,_ ” Pikachu responds with surprising calmness. “ _We're just getting berries._ ”

 

“Which only grow halfway 'cross the region.”

 

They walk through the thick forest together, sifting through rows upon rows of overgrown oaks and willows. They pass by multiple shrubberies chock full of lum, chesto, pinap, and tamato berries—but of course, to Pikachu's dismay, the berries _they_ are tasked with finding reside on the other side of the mountain.

 

Meowth doesn't mind the turn of events like he does, though. Quite the contrary; he enjoys spending some alone time with Pikachu. Hanging alongside the twerps only gets him so close, but now he finally has the chance to actually talk with him. For whatever reason, Meowth has a hankering to spend as much time as he can with the mouse. So, he enjoys this—even if it is just an excursion to pick berries.

 

“ _Well, as long as we don't get lost, this shouldn't take too long,_ ” Pikachu says. Then, in a quieter voice to himself, though Meowth still catches it, he adds, “ _Hopefully..._ ”

 

“You really that against me bein' here?” Meowth asks.

 

“ _What do you think?_ ”

 

“I think you can't accept the fact that I've been helpin' out your group, and I think you're just lookin' for reasons to rat me out for. That's what I think.”

 

“ _Help? You've nearly got us all stolen by a beheeyem and his dream stealer—_ ”

 

“Which I took care of.”

 

“ _Oshawott was almost a beartic clan's lunch because you let him steal berries from them—_ ”

 

“I protected him and the cubchoo kid, didn't I?”

 

“ _And your 'boyfriend' Purrloin almost got away with all our supplies because_ _ **you**_ _couldn't keep your googly eyes off of him._ ”

 

“Hey!” Meowth blurts out. “Purrloin was only doin' what he needed to survive when his mean ol' trainer abandoned him.”

 

“ _She..._ _ **didn't**_ _abandon him,_ ” Pikachu deadpans. “ _You were_ _ **there**_ _when she explained everything. Besides, following Purrloin almost got you killed, you know._ ”

 

Meowth pauses. Well, Pikachu has a point, Meowth will give him that much. But then Meowth decides he doesn't quite care. “Aahh...” he sighs airily. “He was worth it...”

 

The cat glides in his steps as he walks, almost dancing on air as his heart flitters at the thought of the charming rogue that was Purrloin.

 

“ _You're okay with him nearly getting you killed?_ ” Pikachu asks incredulously. “ _And what's with the sudden change of heart? You thought he was a_ _ **girl**_ _the whole time._ ”

 

Meowth ducks his head sheepishly, and taps his claws together. “Actually, I uh... I actually kinda knew he was a guy all along.”

 

“ _Huh? Then why did you—_ ”

 

“Listen, Pipsqueak—I gots a lot on my mind right now.” None of which, he can share without blowing his cover, but he isn't completely lying about that statement. Though Meowth doubts the twerps would be radical or unaccepting enough to kick him out of the group for such feelings, he refuses to take any chances. “I don't know how the young kids a' this generation handle that. Besides, I didn't see _you_ callin' foul.”

 

“ _Because I wasn't tripping over my own feet for him. A-and don't you like girls, anyway?_ ”

 

“Yeah,” Meowth answers simply.

 

“ _But... Purrloin is a guy... And... you like him?_ ”

 

“Yeah,” he answers again. “You got a problem with me likin' both?”

 

“ _N-no,_ ” Pikachu responds, suddenly flushed with embarrassment. “ _I-I just didn't... really know that was a thing..._ ”

 

“What, you got told you can only like one?”

 

“ _Not like that, but... it just seems like everyone's always acting like that._ ”

 

“Well Pikachu,” Meowth says, clapping a paw to Pikachu's shoulder. “People like to make things up so's everything fits into a perfect, neat, little binary. But it ain't like that—you follow wherever your heart takes you, and you don't pay no mind to the naysayers.”

 

Pikachu looks to the ground, transfixed in thought. “ _But..._ ”

 

“But?”

 

“ _But what if..._ ” The mouse trails off. He looks nervous—scared, even. Pikachu's eyes flit everywhere but to Meowth. Then he shakes his head, and walks faster. “ _Oh, nevermind. Why am I even talking to you about this?_ ”

 

For some odd reason, Meowth feels a bit saddened that Pikachu wants to drop such a seemingly important subject. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, and simply shrugs. “You was the one who brought it up.”

 

Pikachu's aggravated sigh serves as his only response. He's probably mostly miffed that Meowth is right, he concludes.

 

Meowth can't help but toil over what he thinks Pikachu might be. Certainly not straight, with the discombobulation Pikachu suddenly came down with upon hearing such a topic. Perhaps he's too nervous to address such realizations—that's certainly an issue. Meowth, himself, has found comfort in his own bisexuality, exceedingly quickly too, given his likewise company in Jessie and James.

 

But perhaps the Twerp Troop are a bit too young to have figured themselves out fully just yet. Perhaps Pikachu doesn't yet have any supportive, similar companions that have given him any sort of confidence or coherence in such topics like Meowth has been so lucky to have.

 

Or maybe Pikachu simply just doesn't know. Perhaps it's just not a topic he's well-versed in, or perhaps he hasn't had enough experience to base any decisions off of just yet. And maybe he's nervous about that.

 

”You know, it ain't a bad thing to not have everythin' figured out yet,” he tries to remedy. “You figure all that mumbo jumbo out when you're in love.”

 

“ _Fat chance._ ”

 

“Huh?”

 

“ _I'll never figure that out,_ ” Pikachu clarifies, “ _because I've never been in love._ ”

 

Meowth gapes. “You never been in love before?”

 

“ _Not once._ ”

 

“Wow, really? ...What's that like?”

 

Meowth tries to imagine what his life would be like if he wasn't so addicted to love's sultry seductions. He tries to imagine what it would be like if he hadn't fallen for Purrloin's charm, for Glameow's glamour, for Skitty's cuteness, for the boss's sophistication and chicanery, for the cat with the cursed name's elegance and sweet, sweet allure. He tries, tries, _tries_ so hard to imagine it... But his mind ends up blank.

 

Pikachu doesn't even have to think about his answer. He simply replies, “ _It's nice. No problems at all._ ”

 

“Yeah, but—” Meowth continues to run his mouth. “Don't you even wanna try it out? I mean, love changed my whole life!” He looks sheepishly to the side, and adds, “P-probably for the worse, but, uhh....”

 

“ _Well,_ ” Pikachu shrugs. “ _If love changed you for the worse, then I think I can do without it for now._ ”

 

“Is it just 'cause you ain't interested?”

 

“ _I don't know,_ ” Pikachu murmurs back. “ _I... just don't really think about it too much. I don't really see what the big deal is. A-and besides,_ ” his face grows the slightest bit red, “ _who'd be interested in me?_ ”

 

“You mean besides that cute little cotton ball you used to travel around with in Sinnoh?”

 

The redness spreads, but the hint of disdain isn't missed. “ _B-Buneary?_ _Well, I mean—we're just—I don't really—_ ”

 

“She ain't for you?” Meowth fills in the blank. Pikachu tilts his head from one side to the other, his brow screwed as he tries to think whether Meowth hit the nail on the head or not. Then he gives an unsure nod. “It happens. Guess you just gotta let her down easy and try again with someone else.”

 

“ _I guess..._ ” Pikachu sighs. “ _I just don't really see what the big deal about love is... everyone's so obsessed with it, and it just always causes so many problems._ ”

 

“Maybe.” Meowth won't argue with that. “But when you're in the moment, and you're feelin' that flitterin' a' butterfree in your stomach whenever you're with that special someone, everythin' just makes sense.”

 

Meowth opens the map Ash gave them before they had set out. His eyes trail the path drawn on through the forest, until he catches sight of a bridge at the edge of the trees. He nods, then puts the map down.

 

The bridge is there, just like it's drawn on the map. The only thing is: the map doesn't account for all the 'Warning' and 'Danger Ahead' and 'Hey Dummy Don't Cross Here' signs that blockade the cliff side.

 

Meowth gulps, then chances a glance at Pikachu. “I, uh... I don't think this is the right bridge...”

 

Pikachu backs up in his steps, and pulls the map down so he can see. After studying it, he looks back to Meowth. “ _It is..._ ” he sighs.

 

The fur on Meowth's back stands on end. “You think there's any chance a' there bein' another bridge? One that's, uh... oh, I dunno—less hazardous to my health?”

 

“ _I doubt it. Let's go._ ”

 

The words he was hoping not to hear. Suddenly he regrets agreeing to coming along on this journey. Without thinking, Meowth grabs Pikachu by the tail and yanks him back before he can lay one foot on the wooden planks.

 

“W-well maybe there's another way,” Meowth stammers out. “A-and even if there isn't, I mean—they're just berries. Do we really need 'em?”

 

In one swift movement, Pikachu turns back, grabs a hold of his tail, and yanks it free of Meowth's grasp. “ _They're cheri berries—of course we need them,_ ” he huffs. Then Pikachu begins on the trail again. “ _Stay here if you're too scared to go. But I promised Ash I'd get those berries, so I'm going._ ”

 

Then he beings to cross the rickety, half-formed, crumbling bridge, all without so much as a backward glance towards Meowth. All Meowth can do is watch him go, outright flabbergasted at Pikachu's tenacity. He's easily the single bravest pokemon the cat has ever seen—either that, or the single stupidest.

 

“He's gonna get himself killed...” Meowth mumbles to himself. He looks around to the right of the cliff side, then to the left, searching for some other, safer way. Unfortunately, as far as his keen eyes can see, there's only cliff, cliff, and more cliff.

 

And when he looks back, Pikachu is already halfway across the ravine.

 

How in the world did he get there so fast? And with no harm done, either? The bridge teeters with every step Pikachu takes, the boards that are still intact bend and creak under his weight. But they have not broken.

 

Perhaps Pikachu is just moving so fast across the planks that they don't feel the weight enough to break. Perhaps, if Meowth runs across the bridge and doesn't allow his weight to linger on any one board for more than half a second, he could make it over unscathed.

 

That's his only choice, it seems. Either that, or come up with some pathetic, half-baked excuse to feed to the twerps as to why he couldn't cross along with Pikachu.

 

Meowth looks again at the bridge, at Pikachu, who is now almost at the end, and at the deep chasm that awaits him should he fall. All he can see is a sea of trees and rocks, as well as a hair-thin blue line of what he can only assume is a river that stretches across the landscape. No safe landing in sight.

 

He gulps.

 

Then he breathes in... and goes for it.

 

“Wait up, Pikachu!” Meowth calls out.

 

He sprints across the bridge, his every step racking the ropes that hold it steady. He tries not to focus on that, nor the loud protests of the boards under his feet that crack and snap in two as he passes.

 

He makes it to Pikachu before his grounding gives out entirely. The plank breaks underneath his feet, and Meowth can only manage a sharp gasp before he falls through. Just before he falls completely, though, he manages to grab hold of the board in front of him.

 

“ _Meowth!_ ” He can hear Pikachu call. But he can't see him. He can't look up to try and find his companion. His eyes are glued to the daunting heights he's caught above, the plunging doom he'll fall to if he lets go.

 

All he can manage to squeak out is a pitiful, “Heeeelp!”

 

The plank Meowth digs his nails into strains and crackles. The ropes pull apart fiber by fiber. Though he hears Pikachu trying to coax him to move, to hold up his paw so he can grab hold and pull him up, Meowth is paralyzed.

 

All he can think of is how quick the descent will be, and how many of his bones will be crushed to smithereens upon the landing.

 

Then the ropes unravel completely.

 

Pikachu jumps to the cliff before the bridge separates in two. But Meowth can only scream and hold on for dear life as the portion he latches onto slams him into the rocky face, claws plunged into his only solace. He squeezes his eyes shut, his heart pounding in his ears.

 

“ _Meowth, hold on!!_ ” Pikachu calls down. At his voice, Meowth dares to open his eyes.

 

His vision is cloudy and blurred with tears, but he can make out the faint image of Pikachu leaning over the edge. And once his sight sharpens a bit more, he sees the paw Pikachu holds out to him.

 

“ _Grab on!_ ”

 

Meowth forces out a shaky breath, and tries to tear his grasp away from the planks. But his muscles are frozen. His feet dangle in the open air, desperate to find some sort of solid ground. They catch hold of the previous planks that have dropped along with this side of the bridge, but each board crumbles under his weight as he tries use them as footholds. His claws plunge deeper into the wood.

 

“I-I'm tryin', but my arms don't wanna move...” Meowth whimpers out through clenched teeth. If he wasn't so preoccupied with trying not to fall to his death, he'd be embarrassed by the shrill terror that fills his voice.

 

The plank he holds onto begins to splinter. One by one, the fibers split apart. And Meowth can only watch it happen. Can only watch when his only solace snaps in two within his clutches.

 

One moment, he's grasping at air. The next, he's holding onto flesh.

 

Pikachu clasps both paws around Meowth's wrist, wincing in pain as Meowth digs his claws into his arm. But he holds on tight, holds onto the cat as he dangles helplessly over certain doom.

 

“Don't let me fall....” Meowth squeaks out.

 

“ _I won't..._ ” Pikachu grunts back. “ _I won't let you fall, just hold on..._ ”

 

With the extra grip he has with his tail wrapped tightly around the wooden bridge post, Pikachu begins to heft himself and Meowth up to safety. It takes an endless amount of time, not to mention all of Pikachu's strength, but with one final pull, he yanks Meowth up to the cliff above.

 

Pikachu tumbles to his back with the force of the pull, and Meowth lands right on top of him. For a moment, they stay in that position, forcing out haggard breaths as they try to recuperate from the danger they were just in.

 

“Why does every bridge I ever cross end up tryin' to kill me?!” Meowth just about shrieks. “Ain't there no such thing as bridge maintenance in this world?!”

 

Pikachu forces out a nervous laugh and nods in agreement. His chuckling slowly fades into nothingness within seconds, replaced by his exhausted exhales.

 

Then he looks to Meowth with a questioning gaze. Then he frowns. “ _Meowth... You can let go of me, now._ ”

 

It takes Meowth a second to realize what Pikachu is referring to. Only when he opens his eyes again, does he realize that he has, since they have reached safety, buried his face into Pikachu's chest and enveloped his arms around his soft, plump body, and has not moved since.

 

Meowth immediately springs to his feet, feeling a strange flittering in the pit of his stomach, as well as a peculiar heat in his cheeks. He looks to the side, trying to pretend like he wasn't just cuddling with his enemy. “Sorry.”

 

The two look back to the shambled bridge, then to the cliff that lies innocently, yet tauntingly, on the other side. Pikachu looks to Meowth, worry shining in his eyes.

 

“ _How're we gonna get back?_ ” he asks nervously.

 

Meowth can only shrug. His heart still pulsates with the adrenaline rush he's in the middle of ending, so he can't even come up with an actual idea. But he sees an opportunity for a joke. And with the fear he's recovering over, a joke is all he can manage.

 

“Well... We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

 

Pikachu looks as though he suddenly wishes that he let Meowth fall.

 

* * *

 

 

The path delves deeper into the forest. So deep, in fact, they can't even see the afternoon sun anymore. They follow the map's curvy, winding trail, so far not running into any more life-threatening situations. Neither try to think about how they can get back to their original cliff side, and both instead elect to focus on what they're trying to locate.

 

The foliage grows dark and thick. Meowth takes the lead for a bit, his Scratch and Fury Swipes proving useful in clearing the path. Upon his leaf shredding, he turns back to Pikachu.

 

“How much further?” He asks, panting as he shakes off the leaves that have enveloped his claws.

 

Pikachu checks the map for what has to be the hundredth time. He has folded and unfolded the paper so many times at this point that the creases threaten to tear apart. And for the hundredth time, he sighs. “ _It's_ _ **still**_ _by the waterfall... Which is_ _ **still**_ _two miles away._ ”

 

Meowth heaves a heavy, over-exaggerated sigh, slumping over in his act. “At this rate, we're gonna be catchin' dinner before we catch those berries.”

 

“ _Well, we're not gonna get there any faster if you just sit here and complain, so keep moving._ ” With a hefty push, Pikachu shoves Meowth forward into the path. He stumbles, but catches his footing and continues on.

 

“Alright, alright, I'm movin'!” He extends his claws once again, and continues his hack-and-slash adventure through the shrubbery. “I don't see why we had to be the ones to fetch the farthest haul.”

 

“ _No one asked you to come along,_ ” Pikachu reminds.

 

“Actually, if you'd recall, your twerpy trai—errr, _Ash,_ ” _Man,_ does that name sound wrong coming from his lips, “asked me to go.”

 

“ _Yeah, but you didn't have to say yes. You coulda just stayed back at the camp._ ”

 

“And listen to ol' Fancy Pants yammer on and on about the different types a' subway cars? I think not.” Once they're almost out of the shrubbery, Meowth continues to walk, but leans his head to face Pikachu. “Besides, just imagine how lonely you'd be if I hadn't come. Then you'd have no one to have your back or keep you from gettin' yourself into trouble—”

 

His hypothetical scenario cuts short when he suddenly trips and falls flat on his face. Once Meowth recovers from the momentary shock, as well as the embarrassment, he springs to his feet, ready to give whatever tripped him a much-needed kick.

 

“Alright, you—”

 

But he stops his rant once he sees what has blockaded his path: a single emolga lays flat on its back, a pick of berries crushed underneath its weight. It springs to its feet, face dark and red.

 

Meowth frowns. “Hey, don't gimme that look,” he sasses. “If you hadn't piped down in the middle a' the road, I wouldn't a' tripped over you!”

 

The emolga chatters a nasty reply, then calls out loudly to the sky. In mere seconds, more emolga than Meowth can even begin to count pop up from the trees, the bushes, the mountain side—everywhere he turns, there's more emolga. Must be a family, Meowth reasons. One really big, mean, raving family.

 

“Heh heh,” he chuckles nervously. “Oh, i-is this your pal I so foolishly trampled into? M-my mistake—honest!”

 

They don't seem to want to negotiate. Each of the emolga readies up an electric attack within their cheeks. And Meowth is suddenly stricken with a deep fear, one so powerful it freezes him in his spot.

 

“ _Look out!_ ”

 

Without warning, Meowth is shoved violently out of the lightning's line of fire. And suddenly Pikachu is there, standing in his place—and he takes the full force of every single attack the emolga hit him with. Thundershocks, Discharges, Sparks, even some Thunderbolts and powerful Thunder attacks: and Pikachu takes it all.

 

The mouse yells in pain, his screams only getting louder and more violent with each extra surge the emolga put in. Meowth can only watch, helpless, but amazed that Pikachu is able to take so much punishment. And to think, it could have been _him_ soaking up all that electricity—Meowth is used to such wattage, but he'd be out like a light under _that_ much collective power.

 

The attacks eventually stop. Pikachu collapses to all fours, just barely able to keep himself standing. He breathes, rugged and strained, through his teeth, his red cheeks sparking wildly. And then it's his turn to attack back.

 

The Thunderbolt he emits is one of the most powerful Meowth has ever seen. It's raw with its energy; but it's also uncontrolled. Though Pikachu shoots his electricity anywhere and everywhere, none of the emolga seem to get hit.

 

They do get the message, though; Pikachu is a lot more powerful than they are, even with their combined forces—so they scatter. Off into the air they go, back to whatever homes they have in their trees and burrows. Even the one Meowth tripped on runs for the hills, but not without giving a small kick to Meowth's shin before it leaves.

 

Meowth grumbles out a response, one that's too quiet for the retreating emolga to catch. He picks himself up off the ground and dusts the stray pebbles and dirt off his front. Once he's sure nothing on his figure is broken or bruised, he turns.

 

“Man, I appreciate you savin' me and all, but next time, couldja do it a little less recklessly?” he pants out. “One a' these days, you're gonna end up hurtin' me. O-or what if one a' these times, you hurt yourself? Then what're you gonna do?”

 

He turns to see Pikachu. He sees the mouse standing shakily back on his hind legs, his eyes watery and bloodshot. He sees the tremor in his stance, the redness of his face, the sparking of his cheeks that has not ceased.

 

Then he sees Pikachu fall.

 

Before he can even register the action, Meowth catches him before he can hit the ground completely. He lays Pikachu onto the soft grass, with his paw cupped behind his head. “P-Pikachu, wh-what happened? What's wrong?” he sputters out, his eyes wide as they dash over Pikachu's image.

 

Pikachu grits his teeth, and clenches his eyes shut. He yelps when a surge of electricity torrents through his cheeks, and Meowth yelps just as loud when he receives said shock. “ _Th...there's t-too much elec-electricity in me..._ ” Pikachu hisses out.

 

“B-but how? Th-those were electric pokemon like you! I thought you could handle whatever they could dish out!”

 

Sure he had been hit by countless attacks, but surely he could withstand them all... right?

 

Pikachu can only shake his head. “ _T-too much..._ ” he repeats. “ _They ov-over—over—_ ”

 

“Over...charged you?” Meowth finishes for him. Pikachu manages a nod. “Is that possible?”

 

“ _Of course it's possible—you've d-d-done it to me bef-f-fore!_ ”

 

“I... I have?” Meowth tries to think back, truly not recalling such an event.

 

“ _W-with your s-s-s-stupid magnet robot,_ ” Pikachu reminds him.

 

“Oh right—that.” Meowth has long since forgotten the journey to Hoenn. But yet, he still doesn't recall such a misfortune to have fallen upon Pikachu. All he remembers is how powerful Pikachu had been at the start of the region. But maybe.. Maybe that was the sickness that made him that way.

 

And now it's happened again, and now Meowth can see it close up. And it looks bad: Pikachu can barely talk, much less walk. Against his legs, Meowth can feel Pikachu's muscles spazzing, the sudden contractions and releases. His whole body trembles, his fur just prickling with static—static Meowth can feel in his own fur. And the outbursts of electricity continue to escape from Pikachu's cheeks, painful to Meowth, but he can only imagine how agonizing they must be to the one exulting them.

 

All this... because Meowth couldn't hold his tongue, and Pikachu had to take his place in pain once again.

 

Pikachu's way too nice for his own good, and this time, it came back to bite him.

 

“Oh man,” Meowth mumbles once he catches wind of the dawning realization. “Oh man. Oh man, oh man, oh man, this is bad.”

 

Pikachu struggles to sit up. “ _You think?_ ”

 

“W-what am I gonna do?” Meowth clutches at his head, his mind reeling with so many rapid thoughts, he feels like it's going to explode. “I-is there any cure? I-I mean, can berries help? We passed by a whole bunch—surely one of 'em's gotta do the trick!”

 

“ _You don't fix it with b-berries, you fix it with ma-ma-machines that suck all the electricity out!_ ” Pikachu protests. He tries to stand, but doesn't make it far before slumping into Meowth's lap. He sighs. “ _Just... Just get me back to Ash. H-he knows what to do, he can f-f-fix this._ ”

 

“I can't getcha back there, Pikachu!”

 

“ _Why not?!_ ”

 

“'Cause the bridge broke when we was makin' a mad dash to this side!”

 

Once the memory rears its ugly head, Pikachu screams to the sky. It's the first time Meowth has ever heard Pikachu curse, and if the situation wasn't so dire, he'd be proud.

 

Pikachu falls back completely, slouched over Meowth's legs like a dying man. He screws his eyes shut, gripping at his cheeks with trembling fingers. “ _I'm done for..._ ” he murmurs.

 

Meowth holds him steady, one paw supporting Pikachu's head, the other laying comfortingly on his side. “Hey, hey—don't say that,” he tries to reassure, attempting to resist wincing at the jolts of power that zap his fingers. “Sure things look grim now, what with us bein' stuck in a land we don't know with wild pokemon around every corner just waitin' to pounce. And sure your only hope a' gettin' better is if I can find a electricity-suckin' machine lyin' around somewheres.”

 

Pikachu groans, quite loudly and quite aggravatingly. And now that Meowth says all of that nonsense out loud, he, too, realizes how hopeless this situation is.

 

He panics. “B-but don't you worry your fluffy little head none—Meowth's gonna have you fixed up in a jiff!”

 

Pikachu groans even louder and even more aggravatingly.

 

 

It's not long before Meowth figures out that Pikachu is in no way, shape, or form fit to continue walking on his own. Though the mouse tries—oh how he tries and _tries_ to protest that he doesn't need Meowth's help—to continue traveling on his own feet, he barely makes it five steps before he's overrun with illness. So, Meowth devises a plan to remedy that—a workaround so simple, yet so clever, only he could have ever thought it up.

 

With a few twists and turns and knots, Meowth weaves together a harness, made with little more than a few durable leaves and some sticks. That way, he can carry Pikachu with him, all without sacrificing the use of his arms or giving his back a major crick. Yep—definitely, without a doubt, a foolproof plan. With a gleaming grin of accomplishment, he straps Pikachu to his back.

 

“There!” He nods. “All tucked in and ready to go!”

 

Pikachu only groans, and attempts to stifle another shock. Meowth feels the traveling static, but without being in direct line of it, the feeling is hardly more than a tickle. This could work out, he thinks proudly. This could definitely work out.

 

“And gimme a casual tap every now and then so's I know you're still alive back there,” He adds.

 

“ _Yeah yeah..._ ” Pikachu mumbles.

 

And so they head off, continuing in the direction they originally followed before the ambush. Meowth walks fast, his steps light and upbeat. He tries to keep a steady rhythm and a cool head, fearing what might happen if he lets his anxiety get the best of him.

 

He keeps his eyes peeled around him. For wild pokemon, for berries, for a potential path back to the other side of the ravine: Meowth doesn't really know _what_ it is he's looking for, only that if he doesn't find it soon, Pikachu won't get better. And if Pikachu doesn't get better, then... Meowth hates to think about what will happen.

 

Surely this electric overcharge couldn't be fatal, could it? How in the world could an electric pokemon perish from its own electricity? Their bodies are built to withstand high amounts of energy, enough so that they can easily store it for days, weeks, months upon end, without ever having to worry about frying from the inside... right?

 

Of course... Meowth has never seen the inside workings of an electric pokemon. He's no doctor; he's only working off of assumptions and speculations. He doesn't know the science behind electric pokemon, and he sure as hell doesn't know how to fix one of its illness.

 

That doesn't mean he won't try, though. Surely, there must be something out in this jungle. Surely, a miracle cure must exist somewhere—or at the very least, some type of treatment.

 

Meowth keeps telling himself that, keeps running that thought in his head over and over and over again until he feels Pikachu moving against his back. The mouse is only trying to shuffle into a more comfortable position, but his movements are so jagged and spastic, every motion jabs into Meowth's back with a dull throb.

 

“You wanna cool it down back there?” He questions. “Quit squirmin', or I'm gonna hafta fix you back up.”

 

Pikachu grunts, and yelps. The bolt of electricity he unwillingly fires off just narrowly misses frying Meowth's tail. “ _I-I can't help it..._ ” Pikachu seethes back.

 

“Well—try to keep y'self under control.”

 

Meowth takes a new path, straying away from the incline of the mountain. Perhaps, he figures, if he's closer to the edge of the cliff they've just crossed, he could find a route back. Then they could find Ash and the others, and then they could get Pikachu the help he needs. It pains the cat to have to admit defeat, but if the situation calls for it, then there's little he can do.

 

On this new path, though, he finds a whole orchard of leppa berries. They all radiantly shine scarlet against the green leaves, plump and ripe and oh-so-delectable. Meowth's stomach growls loudly, and he realizes with embarrassment that he hasn't eaten a morsel since the morning. In truth, it hasn't been that long since the morning—only reaching about the afternoon, according to his best guess about the sun's positioning—but yet, he still hungers.

 

And perhaps, these berries can do something to help Pikachu out. It's worth a shot—surely Pikachu must be hungry too, if nothing else.

 

Meowth picks a few from their homes in the shrubbery, and holds one back for Pikachu. “Try this,” he offers.

 

“ _I-I don't think a leppa b-b-b-berry is gonna help,_ ” Pikachu responds.

 

“Well, ya won't know 'til you try.” Meowth tosses a whole berry into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously loud in an attempt to convince Pikachu to join in. “Mmm... Juicy.”

 

He hears Pikachu's grumbling. Then he hears the soft crunch of the berry's top being severed by two rows of teeth.

 

Meowth grins. “Feelin' any better?”

 

The air is silent for a small moment, only filled with Pikachu's soft chews. Then, there's a jolt—one that's powerful enough to knock Meowth off his feet.

 

As he falls, he hears the following thud of the remaining half of the berry landing just behind him. Meowth picks himself back up, his arms quaking with the power pulling at his veins. “Guess not...”

 

Pikachu heaves out a haggard breath, his back racking against Meowth's own. He grits his teeth, willing himself not to let another outburst overtake him.

 

Meowth picks a few more berries for the road, and holds one out to Pikachu again. “You think you could scarf down another?”

 

“ _I..._ ” Pikachu gulps. “ _I-I'll try..._ ”

 

It takes what feels like hours, but Pikachu eventually finishes off the berry in its entirety. But the process heeds no results—or at least, not the results Meowth hopes for. Pikachu is still just as sick as before, if not even sicker. And Meowth feels his stomach dropping an inch farther.

 

“Well!” He exclaims, forcing a wide grin. “We ain't gonna find help just standin' around! Onto the next berry patch!”

 

He quite literally marches forward, using his picked berries as his fuel. Pikachu slumps against his back, trying his best not to faint. Feeling his troubled fidgets against him, Meowth trudges on faster.

 

Farther and farther into the forest he marches. To keep his mind from wandering and to keep the silence from getting to him, Meowth even goes as far as to call out his steps as he walks. It does little to ease his troubled thoughts, and he's sure the wild pokemon he passes by all give him strange looks as he goes, but he does not stop.

 

“Hup, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four, hup, two, three, four...”

 

And soon, he finds another grove, berries of every kind grown in droves. Meowth stops his marching once he comes face to face with a patch of iapapa berries, his mouth drawing into a grin. Iapapa berries, of course! Surely these could help solve Pikachu's pesky power problem. He picks one for Pikachu, then another for himself to gobble up.

 

“ _Y-you're trying this again?_ ” Pikachu questions as he takes the berry into his paws.

 

Meowth licks his chops clean. “You betcha! I'm pullin' out all the stops to make sure you don't kick the bucket.”

 

Pikachu nibbles at the berry; his face twists into a grimace at the sour taste. “ _Why are you t-t-trying to be so helpful?_ ”

 

“What, you think I wanna be the one to tell your twerpy pals that you couldn't make it back 'cause you caught the electric flu?” Meowth responds. “No way—I gotta do everythin' I can to help all a' youse out to repay you for all the nice things you did for me. I'm just that grateful.”

 

“ _Of c-c-c-course..._ ”

 

Meowth nods. “Exactly. Any changes back there?”

 

Pikachu swallows the last bite. He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut again as another surge of electricity torrents through his system. Once it passes, he shakes his head and sighs. “ _N-n-no..._ ”

 

“Shoot. I thought for sure iapapa berries would help...” The cat frowns. Then he shrugs. “Oh well—onto the next ones!”

 

He tries razz berries, bluk berries, ninab berries, and cornn berries. Rabuta berries and pamptre berries, and chople berries and shuca berries, too. Each and every one Meowth gives to Pikachu to try out, and each and every one does nothing except make Pikachu that much more full. Soon, Pikachu can't even gaze upon a berry without coming down with the overwhelming urge to allow the berries he's already ingested make their way back out of his stomach.

 

But still, Meowth tries. He scratches at his chin as he ponders, eyes sweeping side to side, searching for his next potential answer. All he can see are trees, trees, and more trees—the bushes are filled to the brim with berries, but not a single one differs from the ones they've already tried.

 

So he marches off again, to a new off-beaten path, following a rough trail to the location marked on the map. Meowth opts to whistle a chipper tune, a simple string of whatever notes pop into his head, just to fill in the silence.

 

But Meowth can feel the shocks Pikachu puts out. The sparks that drop from his cheeks, the voltage frizzing through his fur. With each passing minute, it grows more violent, burns his own fur just a little more. Meowth bites his lip and tries not to break into a fit of curses when a few stray sparks sear into his tail.

 

Pikachu is getting worse, and Meowth doesn't know what to do.

 

They enter a small clearing, a section of the forest where only bushes grow next to a steep drop-off. Meowth rushes to the shrubs, shoving his paws into the prickly leaves. There are no berries on the surface, but he's almost certain he can smell the sweet nectar that seeps out of a delicious fruit, a hidden goody trapped within its prison of foliage. All he has to do is find it.

 

“Ah-hah!” From within the deepest regions of the bush, Meowth pulls out a single sitrus berry, shining with its ripeness. If he recalls his berries correctly, then sitrus berries supposedly have the power to restore pokemon back to health—just what they need. He turns his head as far as he can to try to look Pikachu in the eye, and holds out his prize for the mouse to see. “Look't what I found! This oughtta help!”

 

Pikachu grimaces, looking absolutely ghastly.  


But when Meowth fishes out the berry, something else emerges from the bush with it. A plump, hairless head of pink surfaces from the leaves, a deep scowl etched on its features. Meowth jumps, both in surprise and in terror, when the naked baby of a pokemon hops its way out of the shrubbery.

 

A vullaby stands low to the ground, chirping its raspy song of anger in Meowth's direction. It stares keenly at the berry Meowth holds, refusing to take its eyes off of it. Meowth soon understands what the bird is getting at. But there's no way he's willing to forfeit what he's so righteously pilfered.

 

“Hey, hey—back off, Birdbrain! I found this fair and square—go find your own fruit!” Meowth growls in response.

 

The vullaby shrieks out its retort, yells about how that berry _is_ its own, and that _it_ was the one who found it fair and square. And then it yells about how _Meowth_ is the one that is stealing.

 

Meowth only clicks his tongue, and waves the bird off with a dismissive paw. “Yeah, well: finders, keepers—that's my motto. Life's unfair like that, Birdbrain—”

 

He cuts his own sentence off with a yelp of pain when the vullaby clamps its beak down hard onto his paw and plucks the berry from his grasp. Meowth yanks his injured appendage away, gripping it tight in an attempt to mend the agony.

 

“Why _you little—_ ”

 

And then the vullaby unleashes a barrage of Fury Attacks onto him. One peck of the vullaby's beak pushes Meowth back. Another knocks him off his feet.

 

The last sends him careening down the cliff behind him.

 

He stumbles and falls and tumbles and rolls all the way down the slope, the world around him nothing more than a gyrating blur. Though the hill is more dirt than rock, Meowth still feels every impact, every collision against its face.

 

Eventually, his roll comes to a stop, and he skids to a halt, the grass he uproots as he pushes by tossed into the air. He lays in the dirt for a moment, waiting patiently for the world to stop spinning and the torchic to disappear. Once they're gone, Meowth pushes himself off the ground with a grunt and turns back to glare at the vullaby. The bird in questions sits, watching, at the edge of the cliff. It doesn't hesitate to stick its tongue out mockingly at him and hold up the reclaimed berry in triumph.

 

“Why, the _nerve_ a' that little—” Meowth growls. “Hey! Can'tcha see I got a sick pokemon here?! He needs that berry a helluva lot more than _you_ do, you selfish rat!”

 

The vullaby waggles its tail feathers in Meowth's direction in response, then saunters off out of sight without another word.

 

Meowth's face grows hot with anger. “Why I oughtta...” He mumbles. “If I were sure my kneecaps weren't poppin' outta my earholes, I'd show you a thing or two, believe me!!”

 

Only once he's sure that the vullaby is completely gone does Meowth take notice of the pain that racks through his system. Scrapes and scratches cut through his skin, each searing in the open air. He feels sore spots blotching his sides, each prepared to form bruises in due time. Technically speaking, the fall didn't do as much damage as he thought it would: though everything aches, Meowth doesn't feel any of his joints dislocated or any of his bones shattered. And boy, did that fall take a load off of his back!

 

Wait.

 

His eyes widen and his stomach drops when he realizes the missing weight on his figure. “Pikachu?!”  


Thankfully, Pikachu didn't land too far from himself—just a few feet further, laying in a similar crescent of pushed dirt and uprooted plant life as he did. Meowth bounds over, kneeling beside his fallen comrade as his eyes flood with worry.

 

“Pikachu, are you okay?” Upon first glances, Pikachu seems to have the same minute injuries as himself, the only difference being his electrical problem that seems to get worse every time Meowth looks. Once he takes a closer glance at the mess surrounding Pikachu, though, Meowth's attention is immediately grabbed by the shambled remains of his makeshift harness. “Wha—?! Why, that little punk—he broke my backpack!!”

 

Pikachu struggles to sit up, but manages to prop himself up with his trembling arms. “ _You m-m-m-made it out of two leaves and a s-s-stick. What did you th-th-think was gonna happen?_ ” He retorts dryly.

 

Without warning, Pikachu collapses forward, his cheeks letting loose an electrical storm. He cries and yells and digs his fingers into the dirt, his face growing a disgusting shade of red. Meowth jumps in his place, but stays close and chances laying a hand on Pikachu's back in an attempt to calm him. Finally, it ends, and Pikachu looks close to breaking into tears.

 

“H-hey, it's okay, it's okay! I-I can fix this. It's okay—we didn't need that chump's berry anyway,” Meowth tries to amend. “We can find more on our own—it'll be fine! Everythin' will be fine!”

 

“ _What good'll that do?_ ” Pikachu hisses.

 

“Whu... what're you talkin' about? We're findin' berries so we can fix you up.”

 

Pikachu peers at him with bleary, squinted eyes. “ _It won't do anything, and you know it!_ ”

 

Meowth cringes at the tone of voice Pikachu now carries. It quivers with pain, either a physical pain or an emotional one, or perhaps even a bit of both—he can't quite tell. But he's hurting: that much is obvious.

 

“ _What's the p-p-point?_ ” the mouse sighs. “ _There's nothing you c-can do... You m-m-m-might as well just leave me here..._ ”

 

“W-what?!” Meowth starts. “You're givin' up already? Throwin' in the towel, just like that?! What happened to the die-hard, never-give-up, 'I-stick-my-nose-into-every-little-problem-'cause-I-just-gotta-help-everyone Pikachu I know?”

 

Pikachu sniffles, but can't muscle up a reply.

 

“W-well...” Meowth stutters out. His heart pounds against his chest, contorting with that sick sinking feeling of dread. “Well, I ain't leavin' you behind. I ain't givin' up. And neither should you.”

 

“ _Why not?_ ”

 

“'Cause you got y'self a happy little trainer, just waitin' for you! He's expectin' to see you again—don't you wanna see him again?”

 

“ _Of c-c-c-course I do..._ ” Pikachu says. The electricity emitting from his cheeks grows from a slight static to voltaic jolts. “ _B-b-but..._ ”

 

“But what?”

 

“ _I f-f-f-f—_ ” At first, Meowth isn't entirely sure whether Pikachu will be able to get the word out or not. But he does; he does, and Meowth wishes he hadn't.

 

“ _I_ _ **failed...**_ ”

 

The air goes quiet between them. It takes Meowth a long moment to think up a response, or even the will to respond at all.

 

“Failed? W-whaddaya mean, 'failed?'” he asks.

 

Pikachu looks away: at the trees, at the dirt, at the sky—anywhere but at Meowth. “ _Ash asked me to get b-berries because we need them for sup-supplies,_ ” he mumbles. “ _He c-c-c-counted on me... And I m-m-m-messed it up...._ ”

 

Meowth sighs, and places a gentle paw to Pikachu's shoulder. He can feel the static that builds up in his fur before his fingers even brush against it. “Well, this ain't your fault,” he amends. “You couldn't a' known you was gonna fall under the weather. Besides, they're just berries—the twerp'll understand.”

 

Pikachu shakes free of Meowth's grasp. “ _He was d-d-depending on me to get them! And... and I'm l-l-letting him down..._ ”

 

“And what, you think he's gonna kick ya to the curb for that?”

 

Pikachu mumbles a response, one so quiet and hushed and quick, Meowth barely catches it.

 

“ _It wouldn't be the first time..._ ”

 

And suddenly, everything clicks. At first, Meowth couldn't fathom a guess as to why Pikachu was taking something so minuscule so seriously, acting like it was the end of everything good in the world if he didn't complete the task he was given.

 

But he gets it now. Meowth understands, more than he wishes to.

 

“Y...Your other trainer?”

 

The mouse's ears dip low, a sure sign that Meowth hit the mark right on the head.

 

Meowth scoffs, shaking his head. “You're kiddin', right?” Pikachu glares right back, tears flooding his bloodshot eyes. But undeterred, Meowth presses on. “The twerp ain't nothin' like your other trainer. He loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. Why, he'd do whatever it took just to make sure you was happy. Do ya really think someone with that big of a bleedin' heart would leave you, just like that?”

 

Pikachu averts his eyes yet again. “ _It's happened b-b-before..._ ”

 

“What're you talkin' about?”

 

He huffs. “ _I didn't have just one other t-t-trainer, you know._ ”

 

“...You had another one?”

 

A sigh. “ _She... she wasn't a t-t-t-trainer..._ ” Pikachu explains. “ _She was t-t-too young..._ ”

 

Meowth pipes down on the grass, a morbid curiosity piquing his interest. “Well... what happened?”

 

“ _W-w-we were friends.... Like, really good friends... We p-played together, we ate t-t-together, we slept together—we d-did_ _ **everything**_ _together. A-and I was s-s-s-so_ _ **happy**_ _with her..._ ” Meowth sees the twinkle that shines in Pikachu's eye as he talks, the small glimmer of such a vivid, pleasant memory long-since passed. But of course... something must have happened to have broken such a sweet bond apart. And so Pikachu drops the bombshell. “ _S-s-so I evolved..._ ”

 

Meowth knows how this story ends. He's heard the tale one too many times, experienced it secondhand, too. Some people just... don't like it when their pokemon evolve. Whatever magic that enchanted the pre-evolution form seems to dissipate in the eye of the beholder once that pre-evolution form is gone for good. Then suddenly, it doesn't matter who that pokemon is now; it doesn't matter, because they aren't that cute, sweet, cuddly thing they used to be anymore.

 

“...She didn't want you no more...” Meowth finishes for Pikachu. The mouse merely nods.

 

“ _...She just s-s-started ignoring me... Whenever I tried to p-play with her, she'd just get up and l-l-leave... She w-w-wouldn't even look at me... She wanted n-nothing to_ _ **do**_ _with me..._ ” He sighs. “ _So sh-she gave me to her brother..._ ”  


And Meowth knows that the rest is history. A history he's partly familiar with. That pain stays with you forever, Meowth knows. The pain of being let go, not being wanted anymore. He knows it. And he fears it, too. Though his story of Jessie and James continuing on in their plotting without so much as a heartfelt farewell to their furry friend is a complete lie, Meowth can't help but worry that one day, such an idea will become his reality.

 

They've tried to leave him before. And it stung more deeply than he could ever imagine it would. And he's tried to leave them, too. But each time, the trio ends up back as they were before: a trio.

 

If there is such thing as a fate that brings people and pokemon together, then it must have bound Meowth and Jessie and James pretty tightly together. And if they're bound together, he can only imagine how tight the bond is between Pikachu and Ash. Pikachu and his other trainer, as well as the little sister who once loved him and cared for him so... those wires must not have been made to last. Those bonds have been severed, with no hope of being cauterized back together.

 

It's a good thing, Meowth thinks. Such a twist of fate has given Pikachu a gift, even if he doesn't realize it. Those others don't deserve such a precious pokemon. They don't even deserve to look upon him, much less exist in the same time line.

 

But though Pikachu looks ready to cry, he suddenly turns away and huffs defiantly.

 

“ _Why am I t-t-telling you this?_ ” he sneers.

 

“'Cause you're sick, and you think you're dyin'...” Meowth answers.

 

Pikachu attempts to give a harsh retort, but keeps quiet and simply tries to hold on as another electrical attack flows through his body. Meowth sighs as he watches, unable to think of a way to help.

 

Once he finishes his episode, Meowth can't help but ask, “Does your trainer know anythin' about this?”

 

“ _I don't know..._ ” Pikachu whispers.

 

It's true that Pikachu doesn't really have a way to convey such a story to Head Twerp. But Meowth feels that Head Twerp knows more than he lets on, understands better than Pikachu realizes. One doesn't strive for that strong of a relationship without knowing something of the ghosts the other loses sleep over every night.

 

Now that he thinks about it, Meowth shouldn't know nearly as much about Pikachu's secrets as he does. They're not friends—even if he's pretending to be, now, they are definitely not friends. Certainly not friends like Pikachu is with Ash. Meowth shouldn't know about this; it's not in his right to have such a profound knowledge of his enemy. And yet... he does.

 

The electricity gets worse. It suddenly spikes, sending Pikachu into a violent fit of convulsions and contractions. Out of pure reflex, Meowth pulls Pikachu close. He doesn't know what it was he hoped to achieve in the split-second decision—perhaps to ease some of the pain, perhaps to provide some form of comfort. Whatever the case, his intentions don't prevent the electrical current from flowing through him, too.

 

He yells and shuts his eyes and clenches his teeth. Pikachu does the same.

 

And then it's over.

 

Pikachu melts into Meowth's lap, drained of all energy. He forces out fatigued breaths, tries to keep tears from falling. Meowth still holds him close, tears of his own threatening to form.

 

Pikachu is getting so much worse. So much so, that Meowth is actually scared for him.

 

He decides to stop wasting time sitting around. Meowth pushes himself off the ground, carrying Pikachu against his shoulder. The mouse's fingers curl around his fur, unconsciously pulling at it in clumps. The sparks still flow, but Meowth pushes past the feeling.

 

“ _W... What are you...?_ ” Pikachu mumbles into his shoulder.

 

“We gotta get you back, Pikachu,” Meowth implores. “Forget the berries—you need help, now.”

 

Pikachu doesn't put up a protest, doesn't try to wriggle his way out of Meowth's hold. He just holds on, sucking in deep breaths one at a time.

 

With no objections stopping him, Meowth picks a path through the trees and follows it. He walks fast, almost a light jog, every second picking up a bit more speed. He continues to hold Pikachu close, taking comfort in the sound of his deep breaths, his heart pounding against his own. And his own heart hammers against his chest too, heavier and heavier with each second he goes on.

 

And suddenly, he realizes that he's not worried about blowing his cover anymore. Meowth is legitimately scared for Pikachu's life.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun yields overhead, caught frozen hanging over the afternoon sky. With each minute, it threatens to sink lower, shroud the forest in a darker shadow.

 

Meowth has been walking for hours now. He knows it's been hours, because that gleaming sun inches ever closer to the horizon every time he looks for it. And he can't tell if he is any closer to finding the campsite. The forest is a maze of towering trees that all look the same and winding paths that lead nowhere but to more winding paths. He can't even find the ravine's edge, even with the map's help, much less, a way to cross it.

 

Meowth hates to admit it, to himself and especially to anyone else, but he has officially succeeded in getting them good and lost.

 

“Hold on, Pikachu...” he pants out. “I gotta take a breather for a sec...”

 

He heaves out heavy breaths and collapses against a dead tree, dehydrated and utterly exhausted. Pikachu crooks his neck just a bit, just enough so that Meowth can still tell he's conscious and still... well, alive. The mouse continues to unwillingly send shocks through his system, the zaps just about the only thing keeping Meowth going at all.

 

Meowth hasn't given up. He still goes on, still fights all of his aches and pains to try and find his way back. He still holds Pikachu close, even if the mouse's weight causes his arms to burn after holding him up for so long. He holds on, because he's terrified that if he lets go, he'll lose him.

 

“You okay?” Meowth asks as he brings Pikachu down to lay upon his lap, knowing full well what the answer will be. But he needs to hear some reply, some sign that Pikachu isn't completely done for. He'll take anything.

 

“ _E-everything hurts..._ ” Pikachu whispers back, not even strong enough to think up a snarky retort.

 

“Heh, same here,” Meowth laughs. Pikachu doesn't react at all to his humorless joke. “J-just keep holdin' on, okay? It's gonna get better soon, I swear it. Everything'll be just peachy soon enough.”

 

Pikachu sighs. “ _You keep saying that..._ ”

 

“Well,” Meowth says, chewing on his lip. “Someone's gotta stay positive. It's gonna turn out just fine, just you wait.”

 

“ _Meowth...?_ ”

 

“Huh?”

 

“ _....Do you really b-b-believe that...?_ ”

 

He hesitates, but he eventually nods. “Of course I do,” he says. “I betcha right now, our pals are on their way, just lookin' for us. They'll know what to do...”

 

At least they will be able to fix Pikachu. They'll know where to take him, what to do, and how to comfort him. They won't fail, either.

 

If anyone has failed at anything, it's Meowth. Anxiety racks through his insides, reminding him how all his attempts to aid Pikachu haven't done a thing. In fact, his endeavors only seem to have made Pikachu worse. He begins to think how detrimental his addition to this adventure really was.

 

His head falls. His heart clenches, and his eyes flood. He bites his lip, softly at first, then so hard he can taste beads of blood.

 

“I'm sorry...”

 

Pikachu manages a weak glance. “ _Huh?_ ”

 

Meowth gulps. “It's my fault your sick...” He elaborates. “If it weren't for me and my big mouth, you wouldn't a' gotten fried. None a' this woulda happened.”

 

He sighs, taking a wistful glance around at the surrounding trees. His eyes land on one tree that's been picked clean of its foliage, that now rests dried and gray and withered. One single leaf still clings to life, still holds tight, even as the wind battles relentlessly against it.

 

“Maybe you was right... Maybe I really did have no business in taggin' along.”

 

Pikachu trembles against him, another shock lighting up his fur. “ _Well, you're not wrong..._ ” he mumbles once the moment passes. “ _I c-c-coulda done it without you... B-b-but if this had h-h-happened to me a-anyways, and you w-w-w-weren't here... Th-then..._ ”

 

“You'd still be stuck in the same boat.”

 

The dry retort cuts Pikachu off, causes him to wince at the bitter tone.

 

Meowth shakes his head. “It don't matter if I'm here or not. You're still sick,” he fumes. “You're still sick, and you ain't gettin' any better!”

 

He smashes his fist against the dirt. The soft surface doesn't create the booming impact he was inherently hoping for, but he's so hurt that he doesn't even care at this point.

 

“Why ain't you gettin' better?” Meowth asks, tears filling his eyes. “I thought you was this big, tough, unbeatable pokemon—why is this beatin' you? Why hasn't anything I done _worked?_ ”

 

“ _Y-you think th-this isn't hard for me?_ ” Pikachu sneers. “ _I'm t-t-t-trying the best I c-can... I'm t-trying to b-b-beat it, and I h-h-hate that I'm l-l-l-losing... I_ _ **hate**_ _this... I_ _ **wish**_ _something you c-c-could do would w-work..._ ”

 

Meowth sighs, suddenly realizing the impact of his tone. “I know it's hard for you... I just wish I knew what to do...”

 

He really does. He hates that he doesn't know what to do to help, so much so that it outweighs his hatred for wanting to help at all. Meowth has no idea why it is he suddenly cares so much, to the point where he, himself, is getting upset about this disaster. Perhaps it's just that he had no intention of ruining everything when he first set out. Perhaps it's the fear of losing the one thing he's put actual, legitimate effort into for years and years.

 

But of course, there he goes again. Ruining everything. This could have been a nice little stroll through the woods for Pikachu, with tranquill chirping and joltik buzzing all around, not a hostile pokemon in sight. Pikachu could have been here, on his own, without some annoying blabbermouth chatting his ears off, and he could have been back with the berries he was sent out to get in record time. Without a bridge collapsing underneath his feet. Without a rabid pack of emolga frying him from the inside out. Without a selfish vullaby sending him careening off a hill.

 

Without a traitorous, conniving, backstabbing rat blaming him for not being able to get better.

 

His mission seems so distant in his mind now. What's the point of it, if Pikachu isn't there to be a part of it? Sure, Pikachu would probably prefer not to be there, but Meowth is sure he'd rather suffer the fate of capture-and-probable-escape than... this. If Pikachu perishes now, well then... Meowth's just wasted four whole years of stalking him. All because of his own damn mistakes.

 

And what made him come along, anyway? The twerp's polite requests? His desire to keep this friendly charade up as he prances around, pretending to be helpful? His sudden fascination with the mouse? Whatever the reason, whatever the excuse Meowth has told himself before such events went down, he should have just listened to his own gut feeling and not have done a thing.

 

Pikachu deserves so much better than this. Not just the electric illness, but this whole game in general. He doesn't deserve to be stalked. He doesn't deserve to be captured and recaptured again and again and again just because three bumbling fools can't take the hint and leave him alone. He doesn't deserve to be trapped here with one of those bumbling fools, as the fool tries to pretend to be his friend.

 

Meowth feels unabashedly, abnormally guilty. It's a strange feeling, one he's familiar with, but only on so many occasions. He doesn't feel guilt. He doesn't blame himself for things, even when so many are so obviously his fault.

 

But when he does, oh it hurts. So, so, so badly, it hurts. Meowth can feel the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach consuming everything he is and everything he feels like a black hole. It's unforgiving, this horrible feeling. And he knows he deserves every single last shred of pain he feels.

 

He sighs once more, wishing. Wishing that by some grace, by some higher power, things would suddenly go back to the way they were. Before the Unova mission. Before the twerps found him. Back when the days were simple and predictable. Back when everything was formulaic: he and Jessie and James come up with a new plan to capture Pikachu for themselves, possibly dig some holes or build a shiny new robot with all sorts of nifty gadgets and resistances, then somehow, some way, Pikachu finds a way to outsmart them all, and sends Team Rocket to the stars above by unloading every single shred of electrical energy he has into one powerful Thunderbolt.

 

Meowth's eyes spring open.

 

Suddenly, he's come up with an idea.

 

“Pikachu—you said this sickness thing was just you havin' too much electricity in you, right?” Meowth pipes up. Pikachu jumps a bit at his abrupt uplift in tone.

 

“ _Y-y-yeah,_ ” He replies.

 

“So—all you really need to do is find some sort a' outlet to absorb all of it—right?”

 

He nods unsurely. “ _W-well... yeah._ ”

 

“Well then—” Meowth gets to his feet, placing Pikachu onto the ground before bounding over to the open path of the forest. “—shock _me!_ ”

 

“ _H-huh?_ ”

 

“I can be your outlet, Pikachu!” Meowth declares. “I've been puttin' up with your Thunderbolts for four whole years—there ain't nothin' you can dish out that I can't take!”

 

Pikachu steadies himself on his feet, but still looks unsure. “ _I-I... I dunno..._ ”

 

“C'mon, Pikachu, it's worth a try! Besides, I'm sure youse got some a' that pent-up aggression against me that you need to let loose.” Meowth grins, and readies up in his stance, prepared to feel that oh-so-familiar crackling electricity running through his veins. “So, go on—let loose!”

 

Pikachu doesn't have much else of a choice. He realizes that, and eventually makes his decision.

 

“ _A-alright..._ ”

 

Sparks fly involuntarily from Pikachu's cheeks, and only multiply once he begins to charge up. Before he can even finish his preparations, a discharge of electricity fires itself from within, just barely missing Meowth.

 

Pikachu tries a bit harder to control it, focuses a little more. He puts every bit of energy into controlling his aim, until finally, he hits his mark.

 

The electricity engulfs Meowth in milliseconds, crackling and popping and sparking and burning harsher than any other Thunderbolt he's felt. He's enthralled by the sheer amount of power behind it, enhanced as it might be. His teeth clench, and he can't help but seethe out his pain in a low but steady vibratory grunt. But then, in mere seconds, it's over.

 

Meowth stumbles, legs trembling below him. But he keeps on his feet, and shakes himself free of the pins and needles before returning to his previous stance.

 

“That all you got, Pikachu? I was expectin' more,” Meowth prompts.

 

Pikachu breathes in heavy gasps, the attack both refreshing and exhausting. Upon the taunt, he looks up to Meowth, concern shining in his eyes.

 

Meowth motions him on with his paws to bring on more. “Gimme another! I can take it!”

 

And so Pikachu does. He controls his aim with more precision this time, shrouding Meowth in a halo of canary light. Meowth cringes, and his muscles convulse and contract against his will. He falls to his hands and knees, gripping clumps of grass in his fingers, trying to alleviate some of the searing pain. He sucks in air through his teeth, hardly able to breathe at all.

 

The Thunderbolt stops. It takes Meowth a bit longer to recover this time, but within moments, he's back on his feet and ready for more.

 

Just from a glance, Meowth can tell this is doing something for Pikachu. The mouse's face subtracts its dark lines, his eyes positively glowing with a new-found incandescence. And though it hurts more than Meowth can possibly imagine, he continues on.

 

“Gimme another one! I'm ready!” He says once he's caught his breath and braced himself again.

 

“ _I-isn't this hurting y-you?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

“Not one bit!” He replies as his legs quake beneath him, threatening to drop him at a moment's notice. “I'm practically immune to all a' your little shock treatments. Now c'mon—light me up like a Christmas tree!”

 

And so Pikachu shocks him again. Then again. And again and again and again. Each time Pikachu looks on in horror that he's doing more harm to Meowth than good for himself, Meowth bounces right back up and assures him that he's perfectly fine. Better than fine, even—absolutely terrific. He's never felt more alive. Sure his skin burns and his nerves are shot and he's lost the ability to swallow or even breathe properly—but who needs those trivial skills anyway?

 

Meowth's helping. Every time Pikachu fires off a Thunderbolt, his aim is a bit more precise, the stray strands of electricity are a little less unkempt. Pikachu protests occasionally, insisting that he does feel better and that he should stop now, but Meowth continues to usher him on. And he'll continue to usher him on until the redness in his face disappears entirely.

 

Meowth pushes himself off the ground once again, arms quaking so furiously that they might as well have been made of jelly. How many times has he been shocked now? Ten times? Twenty? Fifty? He's lost count. He tries to suck in a breath of air, but he's too occupied with choking on his own spit that he can barely manage even that simple task. But he stands, heaving heavy breaths, a thick, continuous dribble of saliva dripping down his chin. He stands, and gives Pikachu the signal to keep going.

 

Pikachu gulps. “ _I should stop, Meowth... Th-this isn't worth it. I'm_ _ **fine...**_ ”

 

“Keep goin',” Meowth responds, even as he rests his hands upon his knees. “Keep goin, keep goin', keep goin', gimme _everything you got!_ ”

 

Pikachu sighs mournfully. Then he charges up one last time, putting every last bit of energy he has into this attack. And then he lets loose.

 

It's the most vigorous, agonizing, painful thing Meowth's ever felt in his life. The electricity attacks his nerves with such ferocity, he can't even _think_. He can feel his heart thrashing, so much faster than it should be, he can feel the blood pumping in a circuit through his veins. Tears pour down his cheeks. Meowth only knows they're there because he feels the burns the electricity inflicts upon the wetness; he didn't even realize that his eyes were watering to begin with.

 

And the surge only gets stronger and stronger. Meowth is paralyzed in his spot, frozen in his permanent stance on his hands and knees, claws firmly embedded in the dirt. He's done a good job keeping his vocalizations to a minimum thus far, but he can't even begin to stop his pained hissing from turning into full-fledged shrieks of agony.

 

And it doesn't end. The pain keeps coming, his fur keeps frying, everything keeps hurting. Every second takes an entire hour to complete, and soon Meowth is sure this self-appointed torture is never going to end. The electricity will continue to cook him from the inside out until he's good and charred.

 

All he can do is repeat in his head two dueling messages: one, 'I deserve this', and two, 'I'm helping'. They both loop on repeat so vehemently and so rapidly, the messages conjoin into some indistinguishable cacophony of syllables he can't make sense of.

 

Suddenly, the electricity begins to lessen. Meowth forces his eyes open, forces his head up to gaze upon Pikachu. The mouse shrinks in his pose, his stream of lightning becoming weaker and weaker. Soon, Pikachu doesn't put any energy into the attack at all. And Meowth's throbbing heart sinks.

 

Pikachu isn't slowing down because he's getting better. He's slowing down because he knows he's hurting Meowth.

 

“Don't stop!!” Meowth shouts out. Pikachu looks up with a terror-stricken gaze, continuing to lower his power. Meowth hisses in agony. “Don't stop! Keep goin'! Give it _everything you got!!_ ”

 

Pikachu cringes. But he heeds the command, and ups his power once again.

 

And soon Meowth's shrieks block out every other sound in the forest. The tears continue to stream down his face, and soon he can't think of anything except for how much pain he is in. But it's a good pain. It's for a good purpose. As long as he's still in pain, it means Pikachu is still unloading all of his excess energy into him. And as long as Pikachu continues to unload all of his excess energy into him, he'll get that much better.

 

Meowth is helping.

 

He's helping.

 

He's fixing the problem.

 

He's helping, and oh criminy, does it _hurt_.

 

But then everything sparks around him, and suddenly he feels the free flow air encircling him as the resulting explosion sends him flying. Meowth doesn't even have the strength to utter out that he's blasting off again before everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

 

His head swims in a haze, and when he opens his eyes again, the world entrances him with its soft glow and glimmering pastels. Everything is blurry at first, and he hears nothing but a soft hum. But then a saccharine bell chime coaxes him out of his lull, the words tender and warm like a honey-coated cinnamon bun.

 

It's Pikachu, he soon realizes. It's Pikachu with the voice of bell chimes, it's Pikachu with the dulcet, ethereal glow. His golden silhouette looms over the edges of his vision, red rosy cheeks vibrant and glistening as they continue to come into focus.

 

Before Meowth shakes himself free from his fever dream, he decides that this image is the most beautiful he's ever seen.

 

But fantasy fades to reality, and soon, he's painfully aware of everything. Or at least, he's aware of the tremendous pain he's in.

 

“ _Are you okay?_ ” Pikachu asks.

 

Meowth blinks, trying to clear the black and yellow spots that cloud his vision. When he opens his mouth to reply, his throat is hoarse and dry.

 

“I... I think so...” Seeing Pikachu's look of worry, he instinctively adds, “Man, do you got one helluva Thunderbolt.”

 

He tries to get up, but he can't move. Every single one of his joints are locked in place, and he receives no response from any limb or any finger or any toe he tries to move. Paralysis—it's a status Meowth is quite familiar with, given his line of work. But each and every time he falls victim, he always forgets just how blatantly terrifying it is.

 

When Pikachu sees the obvious agony scrunching Meowth's face up, he picks something off from a nearby branch and holds it out towards the cat's mouth. “ _Here—eat this,_ ” he commands.

 

“Whu...what is that?”

 

Pikachu smiles with a sort of wonder and amazement that Meowth only sees in the best of times. It's adorable. “ _You're not gonna believe this, but when you blasted off, you landed right in the middle of a cheri berry bush!_ ”

 

“You're _kiddin'_ me.”

 

“ _Uh-uh!_ ” Pikachu shakes his head. “ _Wow, are you lucky or what?_ ”

 

Meowth cracks a grin, then leans as far as he can in order to take a bite out of the paralysis-healing fruit. “Huh. Yeah—guess I am pretty lucky.”

 

He finishes off the berry in its entirety, and Pikachu feeds him another one just to be safe. The berries are absolutely delightful, both in taste and in power. They're so sweet, sweeter than anything Meowth's ever tasted; sweet and ripe and juicy and right in just about every way. Pikachu sure knows which berries to pick—in mere minutes, Meowth can feel his body responding to him again, can move his limbs without putting every ounce of energy into the action.

 

And Pikachu watches contently, a wavering smile on his lips. “ _Ash and the others are coming soon—they found a way over. Tranquill found us._ ” He then sighs. “ _...I think she heard your screaming..._ ”

 

“Hmm. That'll certainly catch some attention.”

 

Pikachu frowns and shakes his head. “ _I'm sorry..._ ”

 

“Huh?”

 

“ _That really hurt you, didn't it?_ ”

 

Meowth thinks back with a grimace on the agonizing torture he endured just minutes ago. But he shrugs. “Egh—nothin' I ain't used to.”

 

“ _I—when I heard you screaming, I wanted to stop, but—you just kept telling me to keep going. And—and then, I started to feel better. Like, a whole lot better—not sick anymore. And you told me to put everything I had into it, so..._ ”

 

“Hey, you're feelin' better, ain'tcha?” Meowth asks.

 

“ _Well... Yeah, but—_ ”

 

“'But' nothin'. If my stupid plan worked, then that's that!” Meowth smiles. “It's cute how you worried about me, though—I was startin' to think you didn't care about me. You're so sweet...”

 

...Cute? Sweet? Where in the world did _that_ come from?

 

His face suddenly heats up, and those peculiar butterfree flap away to their heart's content inside his stomach. Meowth chuckles nervously, then looks away.

 

“I-I mean, erm—I'm just glad you're better,” he laughs.

 

Pikachu's mouth quirks at the odd change of mood, but he decides to take it as an acceptable response. He twiddles with his fingers, occasionally looking up to Meowth, then back down at the blades of grass that sift out in front of him. “ _I, uh..._ ” He starts hesitantly. “ _Thank you. For... for everything._ ”

 

Meowth tilts his head in question.

 

“ _I've been really mean to you lately,_ ” Pikachu elaborates. “ _And I'm sorry about that. I guess I'm just... not really used to the fact that things have changed for you._ ”

 

It takes Meowth a moment to realize what Pikachu is talking about, and another moment to realize that Pikachu, in actuality, has no clue that what he's saying is completely wrong. But he doesn't say that. He simply nods along, allowing Pikachu to continue.

 

“ _But, I guess what I'm saying is... I'm really glad you came along,_ ” He concludes. “ _This... wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I signed up to go berry hunting, and it's... kinda all I expected when I heard that you were joining me, but... I'm kinda glad you stuck your nose where it didn't belong. You did a good job helping out._ ”

 

Meowth laughs, trying his best not to let his guilt shine through in his voice. That sure is one heartfelt confession. One that he doesn't deserve. But, if Pikachu's willing to offer it, he supposes, under the guise of his falsified alliance, he has to take it.

 

“Gee, those are some pretty flowery claims. You're makin' me blush over here,” he jokes. Then he realizes: he _is_ blushing. _Quite_ profusely. And that blush only deepens when Pikachu idly chuckles and reaches over to pick off some stray leaves that cling to his fur.

 

Criminy, what is going _on_ with him all of a sudden?

 

“ _You okay?_ ” Pikachu questions with a quirked brow.

 

Meowth stiffens. “Yeah, no—yeah—I—I'm fine,” he stutters out. “Just...”

 

He gulps. Something's wrong with him. Well, perhaps not wrong—it could just be that Meowth is still recovering from the aftereffects of ten thousand watts of voltage. That's certainly a possibility. Definitely not the idea that keeps popping into his head about staying beside Pikachu longer than he's scheduled to, definitely not the thought of becoming actual, legitimate friends with him. Definitely not. That's ridiculous.

 

And yet, the thought's so enticing.

 

He grins nervously.

 

“Just thinkin' about the future—that's all.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think, out of context, "I can be your outlet," is the most corny, disgustingly cheesy romantic pick up line I've ever come up with.
> 
> Anyways, fun fact about this chapter: it wasn't originally supposed to exist! I'll talk more about the reason why at the end of next chapter, but yeah. Wasn't originally planning to have a Unova chapter at all. This part was a completely last-minute thing, and one of the very reasons why this came out around Christmas instead of Thanksgiving.
> 
> In the next chapter: pain. Not for the characters (well maybe a wee bit), but for me. And probably you as well.
> 
> Hoo boy.


	6. A Little Heart to Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in these last two chapters, we get a clear insight as to why Gillian never writes romance.
> 
> Drawing fanart for your own fanfiction is shameless enough, but what do you get when you write fanfiction for your own fanart?
> 
> Pain. That's what you get. Pain.
> 
> This chapter is... a mess. It's just..... a m e s s. Which sucks because 1. It's an important chapter and 2. it was the chapter I was looking most forward to writing.
> 
> Buuuuuuuut classic me--fucking things up lol
> 
> I'll talk about what bothers me more at the end notes, but for now, I apologize for the absolute disaster of a chapter you're about to endure.
> 
> There are a couple of mistakes in this regarding the technology Team Rocket uses, which I must apologize for. I'm honestly more of a classic Misty Era writer more than a Competent Team Rocket Era writer, and it just slipped my mind completely. And I wasn't really sure on a way to change it still keep the same events possible. Also my fanart for this chapter is almost a year old (you'll have to forgive it's ugliness), and I used some of the earlier designs for certain things, so... that's a problem too. The next chapter has the same problem, unfortunately--my bad D:
> 
> Also there's a bit more Awkward Talk here--it's short, so it's manageable, but I just thought I'd give a heads up anyway.
> 
> This chapter takes place at some unspecified time in Early Kalos (basically when everyone has their pokemon, but none have evolved just yet)
> 
> I had the hardest time deciding on a title for this chapter, but thankfully TF2 comes through for me once again :D

“I, Meowth a' Team Rocket, am inexplicably and unabashedly in love with the twerp's Pikachu.”

 

The realization comes to him the previous night, waking him from his slumber. Where it came from, he's not entirely sure. And, as to be expected, the realization frightens him, fills him with an unfathomable pool of dread. Surely this can't be happening—surely such an outrageous idea must be wrong. But it's true. There is no other explanation for his rampant thoughts.

 

Every day, Meowth can only think of new ways to try and capture Pikachu. Which, to be fair, isn't too far off from his original thought processes—but now, it's the _only_ thing he can focus on. No other pokemon seems to matter, whether it be the common fletchling, the elusive aurorus, or even the legendary yveltal; they're all just trivial collectors' pokemon compared to the rarity that is Pikachu.

 

And it's not like Meowth only wants to capture Pikachu to sell him off to the boss. He wants to hang around him. He wants to sit beside him and listen to him talk and watch him battle. He just wants to _see_ Pikachu, every minute of every day. Every time Meowth is around him, a certain warm, tingly feeling fills his insides, clutching at his stomach and giving the occasional jolt. It's painful, but he wants to keep feeling it.

 

He has been feeling that jolt ever since Sinnoh, since the... the kiss that Pikachu gave him. Definitely not a romantic gesture; definitely not meant to be anything other than a platonic forehead kiss simply produced by Pikachu's overwhelming pity over Meowth's wounds. And yet his brain doesn't stop reeling. It hasn't stopped, ever since that day. The thought kept coming to his mind that maybe the recent butterfree in his stomach were a result of some latent feelings, and each time it came, Meowth refused to acknowledge it.

 

It's ridiculous: that's the only word for it. Ridiculous. Pikachu would never like him, and he certainly would never like Pikachu—end of story, end of discussion, end of outrageous thoughts that keep plaguing his head. Except... they don't stop plaguing his head. They attack with the force of a million armies, weapons and shields made of feelings and memories of all the times they have shared together primed to penetrate any defenses Meowth can possibly put up. And before he knows it, his haphazardly-built fortress is overrun.

 

It's not long before Pikachu begins to sneak his way into Meowth's boss fantasies. For the most part, each dream is the same. Meowth takes up his rightful position as Top Cat, happily serving as Giovanni's professional lap sitter. The mangy Persian has been dumped into the darkest, most desolate wasteland they can find, never to be heard from again. Jessie and James are near, always visiting and bringing all kinds of goodies and treats; and occasionally, Meowth will join them on a heist or two if he's feeling up to it.

 

But then Meowth begins to imagine Pikachu as his partner in crime. For whatever reason, Pikachu has somehow switched sides and jostled into the crime ring all by himself, all for the purpose of fighting alongside his favorite talking cat. They depart on their missions by the light of the full moon, sometimes with Jessie and James tailing behind, sometimes on their own. And when they bring in the countless bags of cash and all the rare pokemon they can get their hands on, they're both praised as being Team Rocket's most devious dynamic duo.

 

And in the downtime they have, sometimes they eat together. Sometimes they trail through meadows with soft grass and flowers. Sometimes they hold hands. Sometimes they whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears. Sometimes they look into each other's eyes as their faces draw closer and closer together—

 

 _Wow_ , did that get sappy. Meowth blinks the thoughts out of his head, his face growing hot once again. He tries to keep his composure, opting to raise his chin high up in the air with his eyes closed and his chest puffed.

 

Jessie rearranges the toothbrush in her mouth, a single brow arched high into her hairline. “Yeah. We noticed.”

 

“What? How? Err—I mean, egh—” Meowth stammers out, suddenly realizing that the only thing he has talked about for the past week—nay, _month_ —has been Pikachu. He abruptly clears his throat, readjusting his position on the grass in an attempt to look at least somewhat dignified. “Well... Admittin' you got a problem is the first step to solving that problem, you know.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Jessie spits into her mug, then wipes her face clean. “And how do you plan on attacking Step Two?”

 

“Uh.”

 

It only then dawns on Meowth that he's never actually learned what step two of problem solving even _is._ He takes a second too long in coming up with an answer; Jessie stares him down with perspicacious eyes, her face unchanged as she awaits the half-formed response she has already predicted will come out of his mouth. Meowth sighs.

 

“Oh, who am I kiddin'?” He slumps his shoulders, staring at his reflection in the peaceful river that flows gently by. “I don't know the first _thing_ about solvin' problems. I always just wait for my problems to go away on their own, or for a bigger problem to cancel out the first one.”

 

“That's not a very good habit, you know,” James puts in. He brushes the last strand of his hair, then turns to face his feline friend. A thoughtful look plays upon his face. “Then again, I suppose we're all a bit guilty of that...”

 

“You don't always have to mention our shortcomings, James,” Jessie says with a light shove at James's shoulder. He grins sheepishly.

 

With a loud grunt of frustration, Meowth slams his fists into the ground, pushing himself up to his feet. He turns to the two, an intriguing mix of anger and desperation in his eyes. “Guys, help me!! What do I do?!”

 

James scoots up from the creek to get a better view of his friend. He tilts his head with a perplexing air, his hair flowing with the gentle breeze. “I don't understand what's wrong. You're always so vocal about your love interests.”

 

“Yeah, but this time's different! Usually everything's so _sudden_. But I've known Pikachu for _years_ now, and I'm just _now_ feelin' things for him! It's like I actually formed a relationship with him without actually formin' a _relationship._ ” Meowth pants out a hasty breath, struggling to collect his thoughts. “Is that _normal?!_ ”

 

Jessie and James exchange a look. Then Jessie turns back and simply shrugs her shoulders. “Supposedly,” she says. “Love's a complicated thing. It comes in all sorts of forms—you're just used to one form.”

 

“Yeah. 'Cause it makes sense to me.”

 

“Well, Meowth,” Jessie continues. “You've fallen for a lot of different pokemon at the blink of an eye, and not one of those crushes has lasted for more than a few days. 'Cept for maybe Meow—err, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.”

 

“I appreciate that, but what're you gettin' at, exactly?”

 

“I'm just saying that if this is just a small crush, it'll blow over soon. And if not...” Jessie brushes a loose strand of hair back into place, and grabs her make-up kit. She primps her lips with a coat of crimson lipstick. “Then maybe you really got something going for the little rodent.”

 

Meowth slumps back down. “But what do I _doooooo?_ ”

 

“Well, couldn't you just tell him how you feel?” James asks.

 

“ _What are you,_ _ **crazy?!**_ _I can't do that!!_ ” Meowth all but shouts.

 

James nearly falls back from the shift in volume, but keeps his ground. “But why not? What makes this time so different?”

 

“For one thing, Jimmy—we're s'posed to be enemies! I'm s'posed to catch him and bring him to the boss! How's it gonna look if I'm confessin' my love to my enemy right in front a' the boss? Or the twerps?!” Meowth's look of devastation grows even deeper. His eyes widen as another realization dawns on him. “What's Pikachu gonna think if he knows that I ain't just tryin' to sell him off, but that I'm _secretly pinin' for him, too?!_ ”

 

Meowth flops dramatically face-first into the grass, making no effort to shift his head to make his mumbling understandable. The two Rockets can only assume that what he is saying is along the lines of, 'Why's everything gotta be so harrrrd?' They sigh in exasperation.

 

“That's how life is, Meowth,” James says. “You try, you fail, you move on.”

 

Jessie scoffs. “Maybe in _your_ life, Mister Negative-Nancy.” She rolls Meowth onto his side, her fierce, determined gaze piercing into his disheartened eyes. “Meowth, if you really want something to come out of this, then you better quit your little pity party and start making things happen.”

 

“But... But how?” Meowth sniffles.

 

“Do what you always do: ask him out, give him flowers, proclaim your love a thousand different ways, be annoying, just _do something._ Let him know that you adore him.” There's a certain fire in Jessie's tone that Meowth's sure he has heard before. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't intimidated by it, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't also inspired, as well.

 

“But what happens if Pikachu takes an actual liking to him? That doesn't change the fact that we're still on opposite sides of the coin. Do you _really_ think he'll leave the twerp for you, Meowth?” James asks. The question shatters Meowth's bliss into a million miniscule pieces.“Oh dear me, there I go again.”

 

“Nice _going_ , James.” Jessie swivels her head around at him, fixing him with a fierceness that sends a chill down his spine. But he has long-since grown used to the complaints about his pessimism he can never seem to alleviate, and so he barely winces.

 

“My mistake. I'm just thinking aloud.”

 

“Well, think a little quieter!”

 

“No, he's right...” Meowth groans. “He ain't gonna ditch the twerp, even if he _does_ like me. They're glued together tighter than Jimmy and his bottle caps...”

 

“And that's the thing that's gonna stop you?”

 

Meowth turns to Jessie. “Huh?”

 

“One day of fraternizing with the enemy isn't gonna kill you two,” Jessie says. “I know you're a better pair of friends than you let on. Just take it a step further.”

 

Meowth blinks, then sits upright. “You really think we're friends?” He asks with genuine interest.

 

“Well, you're certainly not stone-cold rivals anymore,” James adds.

 

Meowth breaks into a delightful smile. “You really think so?” He asks. The two human Rockets nod. Meowth brings his paws to his face, squishing his heated cheeks as he tries to contain his happiness. “You're right! Maybe I do have a chance!”

 

“That's the spirit,” Jessie says.

 

“I should make a date with him,” Meowth begins to ramble. “I should give him flowers and-and take him to dinner, and—and then, who knows what'll come next?! It's just for one night. Maybe—maybe this could work!”

 

With a hearty sigh, Meowth falls to his back in the grass, still wriggling and writhing from the giddiness that roams his nerves. But he immediately stops, and opens his eyes.

 

“'Cept....”

 

“Except?” Jessie and James say simultaneously.

 

“That means I gotta _ask_ him, first,” Meowth answers. “And he ain't gonna say yes.”

 

The two wince. That is, indeed, one big oversight.

 

“Well...” James starts. The others turn to him for clarification of his idea. “We can go catch him, and you can ask him before the twerps steal him back. And once that's all through and through, we can 'escort' him back to your finished date!”

 

Jessie smirks. “Not a bad idea, James. And maybe _we_ can set your little date up.”

 

“Youse two would really do that, just for me?” Meowth questions.

 

“Well of course,” Jessie answers. “Gotta get your mind clear and focused again, don't we? Plus, it'll be a grand opportunity to let our decorative flare shine!”

 

He knows she's just saying that just to be snarky. But Meowth can't wipe the grin that takes up half of his face. He leaps for the two human Rockets, tackling them in a tight embrace. The sudden force topples them to the grass.

 

“You guys are the best,” Meowth mumbles into their chests.

 

* * *

 

It doesn't take them long to locate the twerps. There's only one road out in this desolate greenfield that leads to the Head Twerp's next gym battle, and the fields are so wide open, not even the twerps can find a way to get lost.

 

The trio looms overhead in the Meowth Balloon, a considerable distance away so as to not be spotted. Meowth leans over the edge of the basket, eyes glued to the high-tech pair of binoculars in his hold. He spots the twerps in no time, casually zooming in to focus his lens on the pudgy mouse that sits atop of Head Twerp's shoulder.

 

“There he is,” He says. Meowth is sure Jessie and James can spot the twerps on their own, but he doesn't pay their attention any mind. He only focuses on the sole reason why they came this far this early in the day. An airy sigh escapes him. “Who knew one pokemon could be so purr-fect? It should be illegal.” He hums in thought. “It _should_ be illegal. That way, he can run with us.”

 

It's a dumb joke; definitely not one of his finer ones. But it's the only way he can think to calm his nerves. Meowth turns to Jessie and James.

 

“Do you really think I can do this?” He asks, his ears sheepishly folding against the back of his head.

 

“Well,” Jessie starts. She pulls out the extendable claw, as well as the electric-proof cage. “We're about to find out.”

 

James brings them down closer to the Twerp Troop, with all the stealth and subtlety of a Meowth-head hot air balloon. It doesn't take the kids long to take notice of their presence.

 

“Look alive, Twerps!” Jessie calls out, catching their attention in full.

 

Ash shoots his gaze up to the balloon, immediately falling into a defensive stance. “Team Rocket!”

 

Jessie and James clear their throats, then climb atop of the basket's rim. Meowth pushes the button on their stereo on, and their self-proclaimed fanfare begins to sound out over the air.

 

“Prepare for trouble, but not for a fray,” Jessie rehearses.

 

“And make it double, our friend's got something he'd like to say,” James joins in.

 

“Well save it for another day,” Ash interrupts them.

 

Meowth jams his finger onto the off button. With a huff, he climbs to the top of the basket. “Hey! We didn't even get to my line!”

 

Wobbuffet chooses this moment to pop out of his ball to voice his agreeing complaints, nearly knocking Meowth right over the edge. The cat scurries back, finding a seat atop of the blue blob's head, but continues to frown down upon the twerps.

 

“Save it,” Ash continues. “What do you want this time?”

 

“Yeah, you're earlier than usual today!” The tiny blonde twerpette—Bonnie, was it?—notes. “What's the deal?”

 

Jessie and James swing back into the safety of the basket, but continue to flaunt and pose. “We want the same thing we always want, Twerp,” Jessie says. “That adorable little Pikachu.”

 

She raises up the extendable claw, giving a coy smirk before firing away. As usual with the twerps, they're too stunned by the sudden attack to put up a fight. Before they know it, the claw snatches Pikachu within its grasp and reels him all the way up to the balloon.

 

“Pikachu!!”

 

Paying his owner's shout no mind, Jessie releases the mouse into the cage James has prepared. Pikachu shouts and jostles the bars, letting loose a harsh surge of electricity that is immediately absorbed by the cage. Jessie and James both laugh at the failed attempts before James hands the cage off to Meowth.

 

“Well, I hate to leave you all on such short notice, but we really must be going. Kalos conquering, and all,” Jessie says. “Take us away, James.”

 

“With pleasure. See you _losers_ later!”

 

James pulls out a remote from his back pocket. From below the basket, a panel opens up and releases two rocket engines, which fire up immediately upon James's command. Before the twerps can even try to pull their pokeballs out, the Rockets speed away, far from their range. Ash's shouts for Pikachu become nothing more than a faint buzz on the horizon.

 

“Make this quick, Meowth; we don't have much fuel,” Jessie informs.

 

“No problem!” Meowth signifies his compliance with a small salute. He simmers down to the floor of the basket, placing the cage right before him. The deep scowl Pikachu gives him sends a shiver down his spine. “Egh.... Maybe nabbin' him just to ask a question wasn't the best way to do this...” Meowth mumbles with hesitance.

 

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but we're a little too far _into this_ , now,” James replies.

 

“Besides, what other methods do we even have?” Jessie adds.“Now get to talking!”

 

Meowth chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his head. He turns back to Pikachu, whose expression hasn't changed a bit. He clears his throat, trying his best not to gnaw on his lip. “H-hey, Pikachu,” he starts off, forcing cheerfulness into his voice to mask the overwhelming anxiety that turmoils inside of him. “Fancy seein' you here this early. Glad you could drop by.”

 

“ _Let me out of here,_ ” Pikachu growls back, wasting no time with Meowth's small talk.

 

Meowth's face drops. His mind blanks, and suddenly all he can think about is how cute Pikachu looks when he's flustered. Those puffed up cherry cheeks, that gleam in his beautiful tawny eyes, the way his fur frizzes with the electricity he puts out. Of course, Pikachu is, without a doubt, cuter when he's in a happier mood. But there is a certain charm to his annoyance, as well.

 

Meowth shakes his head clear of those thoughts and finally finds the words to speak with. “Why would I do that? You just got here,” he reasons. “'Sides, I got a got a little somethin' I wanted to ask you.”

 

“ _Go ask someone else._ ”

 

“No can do, my Pika-pallie. See, you're the only one who can give me a straight answer 'round here.”

 

 _'Heh,_ _ **straight**_ _answer.'_ If Meowth could slap himself without looking like he's suddenly come down with a joltik problem, he would have. _'Damn it, Meowth, take this seriously!'_

 

Pikachu continues to look unconvinced. “ _Why?_ ”

 

“Because, Pikachu—I need some insight from a pokemon's perspective. Someone who's not Wobbuffet.” Upon hearing his name, Wobbuffet gives the two a proud salute.

 

“ _Then just ask Inkay or Pumpkaboo—_ ”

 

“Th-that ain't the point!” Meowth can feel Jessie and James burning holes into the back of his head with their eyes, their indirect signal to stop fooling around. “See, what I need to know is...”

 

Would you go out on a date with me. Would you set aside your differences, and I, mine, for one day—just one day, that's all I ask—and let me take you out.

 

That would be what Meowth would like to say. Too bad his brain decides that now would be the perfect time to short circuit instead.

 

“I... got a problem, Pikachu.”

 

“ _Yeah. I noticed._ ”

 

Oh, how he loves and loathes Pikachu's smart mouth. “Don't get coy with me,” Meowth jeers. “You see, I... got a thing, for... a certain someone.”

 

“ _...Huh?_ ”

 

“That definitely ain't you.”

 

“ _ **Huh?**_ ”

 

“I mean—” Bad word choice, _bad_ word choice. Sirens blare noisily in Meowth's mind, his teeth grinding as he realizes his slip of the tongue. Jeez, why is this suddenly so difficult? “I-I was just wonderin'.... How I might go about askin' him— _her_ — _ **them—**_ out.”

 

Pikachu is lost in incredulity. Meowth can see it in his unwavering stare that he has no clue where to even begin addressing whatever it is that the cat's trying to ask of him. “... _Just.... Ask._ ”

 

“It ain't that simple, okay?!” Meowth all but shouts. His nerves prick and pull at his skin; in fact, he's pretty sure he's trembling. Jeez, what a mess. “See, we don't got a lotta common ground. We fight a lot, and we got some real different views on a whole lotta things, and I ain't even sure if you— _they_ like me at all. But just consider for a moment that they do like me—at least enough to spend just one day with me—what do I do?”

 

“ _I—I—I—_ ” Pikachu stutters. No longer is he angry, but rather flabbergasted. So flabbergasted, in fact, that he's almost at a loss for words. “ _How should I know? I don't know anything about dating._ ”

 

_'Gee. That makes two a' us.'_

 

This is going nowhere incredibly fast. Meowth can feel the rumble of the engines shaking the basket, signaling the distinct lack of fuel to consume. The fires sputter out, desperately gulping in the last few breaths of oxygen they can manage. A mere second later, and the propulsion stops completely, slowing the balloon to its normal speed. The basket jostles with the sudden slowness, but everyone manages to keep their footing.

 

“Shit,” Jessie mutters. She looks to Meowth. “Get a move-on, Meowth. The twerps are probably well on their way.”

 

“Alright, alright, cool your jets.”

 

Meowth sighs, wondering for a moment just how he even got to this point to begin with. For once, they captured Pikachu, not with the intent of turning him in to the boss, but for Meowth to ask him a simple question. Or, it should have been a simple question—it would have been a simple question if it was addressed to someone Meowth just met, or just barely knew, or someone _other than Pikachu._

 

It shouldn't be this difficult. If it were any other pokemon, Meowth would have no trouble saying what he wants to say. It's one of his many talents, after all—forwardness and bluntness. Yet something about Pikachu makes his confidence shrivel up like a raisin.

 

Is it because he's known Pikachu for so long that he doesn't have the same mojo? The idea that Pikachu might not take him seriously anymore (then again... has he ever?) if he knows that Meowth has developed a bad case of feelings for him, perhaps? Meowth doubts that Pikachu feels the same. This whole mess is just a hopeless endeavor, Meowth realizes, the further he pushes.

 

Or maybe it's just that he doesn't want to be rejected again.

 

Meowth bites his tongue, shaking his head free of such thoughts. He's going about this the wrong way, he figures. He could ask Pikachu out. He could ask anybody out. It's all just a matter of opening his mouth and saying those magic words. But that's not what he needs to know.

 

“Alright Pipsqueak, let's try this a different way,” He says.

 

Pikachu, who's well aware of the dilemma Team Rocket finds themselves in and is well aware of his friends' rapid progression, sits and waits patiently. Though Meowth is making a whole lot of mumbo-jumbo rather than sense right about now, Pikachu's a bit intrigued. It's not everyday that he sees Meowth so hilariously flustered and out of his element. “ _Shoot._ ”

 

“I need some ideas to bounce off a' youse. So tell me: what's your ideal date like?” Meowth asks.

 

And Pikachu's stunned into silence yet again. “ _...W-why do you need to know that? Wouldn't my choices be a lot different from someone else's?_ ”

 

“Erhh... Let's just say you two's got a lotta common interests.”

 

Pikachu purses his lips, leaning on the bars to get as close to Meowth as he can. He peers into his eyes, looking for something. The gaze makes Meowth antsy. “ _Who're you trying to ask out, anyway?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

“N-nobody you know. That's who.”

 

Pikachu pauses in thought for a moment. It's hardly noticeable, but the corners of Pikachu's lips quirk the slightest bit upward in a coy grin. “ _....Is it James?_ ”

 

The look on Meowth's face is something between a raging forest fire and a revolting garbage dump. Pikachu's cheeks puff as he desperately tries to hold in his laughter.

 

“ _No_ , it is _not!_ ” Meowth snaps. He has to hold a paw to his chest to make certain he doesn't lose his lunch. “ _How_ can you even suggest that? Have you ever even _seen_ a human naked? Lemme tell youse—it _ain't_ pretty.”

 

“I resent that,” Jessie and James say in unison.

 

Meowth pays them no mind; just tries to shake all the times he's walked in on one or both of them in the nude far, far, _far_ away from his memory. Pikachu bites his lip, but can't help but allow for one small chuckle.

 

“ _Well then, who is it?_ ” He asks again, once he's composed himself.

 

“I told you, it-it ain't nobody you know!”

 

Meowth sneaks a peek over the basket's rim, checking for the limited amount of time he has. Just on the horizon, he can spot four Twerp-shaped dots heading straight in their direction, getting closer and closer with each passing minute. Meowth grumbles to himself, then turns back to Pikachu.

 

“Please just work with me. Just this once,” he pleads. “There's gotta be _some_ things you'd like to do on a date.”

 

“ _I... I don't know..._ ” Pikachu murmurs. “ _Nobody's... really asked me that before._ ”

 

 _'Really?'_ Meowth almost shouts. Really, _nobody's_ taken him on a night out before? Or rather, nobody's ever asked for his preferences in activities? How inconsiderate, Meowth fumes. How disgraceful. To think, someone as cute and charming and lovable as Pikachu hasn't been treated to an ideal date before. Meowth's disgusted and angry on Pikachu's behalf just at the thought of it.

 

Pikachu deserves the world. Definitely something much better than a mangy alley cat. But the mangy alley cat will try his best to please, anyway. Surely one who tries can succeed where others have made no attempt, right?

 

“Well, _I'm_ askin' you now,” Meowth says. “Let me in. Paint a picture for me.”

 

“ _Well...._ ” Pikachu hums. The time it takes for Pikachu to come up with some sort of response feels like an eternity. “ _I guess.... Some good food would be nice._ ”

 

Good food? Meowth can do that. “Uh-huh?” Meowth affirms. Starting out simple is always a good thing.

 

“ _And... Some music or a movie or something, just to watch. Maybe, some dancing, too?_ ”

 

Ah yes. Dancing. The bane of Meowth's existence since The Incident of Hoenn. But he'll suffer through. And Jessie and James would be perfect for some sort of entertainment. Anything to please Pikachu.

 

“Good, good. Go on.”

 

“ _And then, when that's all over, then maybe..._ ” Pikachu pauses in thought, considering the last piece of ideal date material. Meowth inches forward towards the cage, intrigued—enthralled, even—at what Pikachu's last request is.

 

“Maybe...?”

 

Pikachu swallows his pride, looking Meowth right in the eye. A fire burns in his tawny orbs, one of sheer excitement and passion.

 

“ _Then I'd want a good battle!_ ”

 

Meowth is almost sure that he hears something glassy shattering into a million sharp pieces.

 

“Aw shit, why'd ya hafta say a battle...?” The cat murmurs under his breath.

 

“ _Huh?_ ”

 

“Err, I mean—” Meowth corrects himself. “I mean, that's a _great_ idea! What with you bein' such a _battler_ and all. Boy, I sure do hope that whoever takes you out knows how to battle, I really do!”

 

He's screwed. It's over. It's done. Finished before it even begins.

 

He knows how much battling means to Pikachu. In truth, Meowth should have seen that answer coming from a mile away. It's more than just a career for the mouse; it's a lifestyle. His way of meeting new people and pokemon, and making friends with them, too. It's a way to show off just how much training and effort has gone into his art, as well as a way to express himself through the art.

 

Meowth doesn't get the same feeling from battling as Pikachu does. In fact, he's a bit lost on the concept, entirely. In his lifetime, he's only learned a grand total of three moves—four, if he were to consider the one he once tried learning back in Sinnoh, but could never get down properly.

 

He doesn't know how to battle. He can't even use the one move that his species of pokemon is specifically known for. If he can't even pull off Payday, then what hope does he have of giving Pikachu the battle he deserves?

 

The cat forces a smile, his teeth grinding together in an attempt to avoid chattering. Suddenly his forehead seems slicked with sweat, his body going rigid. “That's uh... That's good stuff you got, there,” he says.

 

“Twerp alert, Meowth,” James interjects. He lowers his binoculars, matching gazes with the cat. “Are you about finished?”

 

Meowth breathes a sigh. “I—” He still has a chance to ask Pikachu straight up. To confess. But one look at Pikachu's confused stare and the way he impatiently grasps at the bars holding him captive, and he knows that this isn't the time. Something holds him back. “Yeah, I'm done.”

 

Meowth takes a careful step towards the cage. Pikachu immediately tenses in a form of defense, but can only stare in confusion when Meowth undoes the latch. The cage door swings open, sweet freedom lying just a few inches away. Pikachu hesitates, swiveling to Meowth for some sort of explanation.

 

“ _What are you doing?_ ” He questions suspiciously.

 

“Today's your lucky day, Pipsqueak. We're cuttin' you a break,” Meowth replies.

 

“ _But... why?_ ”

 

“All we really wanted from you today was a couple a' answers.” Meowth pulls the cage door open a bit wider, allowing for more view into freedom.

 

Pikachu hesitantly takes a step out, never letting his eye leave Meowth. The cat stands motionless, watching Pikachu with a nervousness the mouse doesn't quite understand, as well as some sort of dejection. Another step. Neither Meowth, nor Jessie or James move. None of them make any attempt to grab him or capture and imprison him. They just _watch_.

 

“Ah-heh, you're free to go,” Jessie ploys, forcing a smile. “Don't go telling everyone that we're letting you free, though.”

 

Wobbuffet pops out of his ball yet again, shouting his agreement.

 

Her eyes flit to Meowth, imploring the cat for some form of action. He notices, but doesn't say a word. Just forces his smile wider.

 

“ _Why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?_ ” Pikachu can't help but ask.

 

Meowth's face draws into a pout. “Well that's insensitive.”

 

“ _You know what I mean._ ”

 

“Because, Pikachu,” Meowth says. A splash of crimson envelops his cheeks, both of his paws clutching at his heart. “That's what us lovers are like.”

 

He can't get any stranger, Pikachu thinks. Whatever's going on in Meowth's head, or heart, rather, he can only hope he finds some sort of solution to, soon.

 

Pikachu shakes his head, allowing the disbelief to wash over his face. He sighs, then climbs up to the top of the cage and then onto the edge of the basket.

 

“Pikachu!!” Ash calls down from below.

 

The mouse calls out a response, then readies himself to jump into the arms of his awaiting friend.

 

“W-wait!!”

 

Meowth's shrill cry stops Pikachu mid-prep. He turns to the cat.

 

Meowth goes behind James and snatches something from his back pocket. “Hey!” The man calls in protest.

 

The cat pays him no mind. He hustles over to the cage and climbs atop, holding out whatever he has stolen from James.

 

It's a crimson rose, each thorn carefully snipped off, the voluptuous petals sparkling with the water drops that still cling onto their velvety surface. Meowth holds it out in front of Pikachu's face, his own growing red once again.

 

“For you,” He says. Meowth closes his eyes and looks away in an attempt at suavity, but his suppressed smile comes off more as him trying to hide away laughter from a joke he thought of in his head.

 

“ _W...what's this for...?_ ” Pikachu asks. There's a burning in his cheeks that he can't quite place.

 

“'Cause it matches your red rosy cheeks so well, that's why,” Meowth replies. “Don't get any ideas. It ain't 'cause I like you or nothin'. That'd be just silly.”

 

Pikachu takes the flower from Meowth's hand, giving it a closer look. The smell is so fresh, and the petals are soft as silk when Pikachu runs a finger over them. So delicate, yet so dangerous, he knows. Pikachu allows himself a small, unsure smile.

 

The fierce chirping of Fletchling pulls Pikachu's attention away from the rose. The bird gives a cruel glare to the Rockets, calling out his name in warning.

 

Pikachu supposes this is his cue to leave. He gives one last look to Meowth, who has joined his friends in cowering in the corner of the balloon. Pikachu whispers a small goodbye before leaping off the basket.

 

Just as Ash's arms envelop him, Pikachu can hear the pop of the balloon, then the shrieks of the quartet as they fly off into the beyond on a one-way trip.

 

“You okay, Pikachu?” Ash asks. Pikachu chirps a happy reply, and the two embrace.

 

“That was weird,” Clemont puts out once he's caught his breath. “You think Team Rocket's feeling okay today? Usually it's not this... simple with them.”

 

“Are they ever feeling okay, though?” Serena asks.

 

“Guess you have a point.”

 

Bonnie curiously walks over to the pair, tilting her head at the plant Pikachu still grasps within his paw. “Pikachu, where'd you get that?”

 

“Huh?” Ash breaks the hug, instead looking to the flower Pikachu holds. “Wow, where _did_ you get that, Pikachu? Did you take it from Team Rocket's balloon?”

 

It's times like this that Pikachu wishes he can communicate with humans, if only to tell them how strange and utterly ridiculous Team Rocket, and especially Meowth, can possibly be.

 

* * *

 

“You can open your eyes, now, Pikachu.”

 

Though it's pitch black outside, the light from the stars and the bulbs and the candles nearly blind him. Pikachu blinks once the blindfold is removed—an unnecessary step, he thinks, but apparently they wanted whatever this whole strange kidnapping was for to be a surprise.

 

It feels like mere moments have passed since they came back to steal him away from Ash. One moment, he's listening to Serena go on and on about what his new flower could possibly entail, the next—Team Rocket shows their faces for the second time that day.

 

They don't give up, Pikachu muses. Though he secretly hopes they're better coordinated than before. That last appearance was just embarrassing.

 

But when he sees the display in front of him, hears the music playing behind him, and feels the warmth of the light around him, Pikachu has no idea what to think.

 

A round table covered in a white cotton cloth sits before him, topped with a large, delectable plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Rose petals surround the dish, matching the deep crimson of the wine on Pikachu's left. The rose Meowth gave him before—he can tell by both their lingering scents—rests peacefully in a slender glass vase. Half the table is coated in candlelight, the other half sparkling with the bulbs that decorate the Meowth-head balloon behind them.

 

There are two chairs on either side of the table. Pikachu sits on one end. Meowth sits on the other.

 

The cat is dressed in a black bow tie and cufflinks, which Pikachu soon realizes that he, too, wears the same attire (although much more crookedly—James tried his best to dress him, but Pikachu fought back with a vengeance). Meowth bounces in his seat, wearing a grin that's both excited and anxious at the same time. A light blush tints his cheeks.

 

“Well,” he begins. He taps his claws together, an action simply used to keep his nervous hands busy. “What do you think?”

 

Pikachu doesn't even know where to begin.

 

He can only think to what Serena said earlier about Meowth, about whatever motives the cat might have had.

 

_“You know, Pikachu,” she had said. “I know it's weird to think, but... I think Meowth might actually... like you.”_

 

_She suggests it after Pikachu explains to the best of his ability what went down in that balloon, which really only boils down to: 'We talked, he was being weird, he gave me a rose, and he let me go'. His eyes widen, and his jaw drops. A pitiful, dumbfounded squeak makes its way through his throat._

 

_“Wait... What?” Ash—ever the clueless one when it comes to romance—interjects. “What do you mean 'like him?'”_

 

_“Like lovey-dovey 'like him', silly!” Bonnie explains. “The 'I wanna kiss you and hold your hand and get married to you and have kids one day' kinda 'like him'!”_

 

_Clemont's a blushing mess, even if he's not the one being talked about. “Alright Bonnie, that's enough,” he hushes his sister with a nervous laugh. She giggles too, especially when she sees the matching looks on Ash and Pikachu's faces._

 

_“But—” Ash can barely keep his words in order. “How can Meowth like him? All he wants to do is catch Pikachu for his own schemes. Besides, we've known him for five years, now, and he's never been like this.”_

 

_“Maybe you haven't been looking close enough!” Bonnie says._

 

_Pikachu's ears lower, and he slumps to the ground, unable to comprehend how in the world he's supposed to take this news. Why in the world has this happened? **How** could this happen? It's bad enough to have one of his former traveling companions fall head over heels for him—for reasons he still can't comprehend—but now? With his enemy? The one who follows him through the depths of the abyss and back to the opposite end without so much as a single shred of hesitation? How could this have happened?_

 

_Surely there must be some mistake. Surely there's no way that Meowth could have ever even begun to think about a hidden adoration of Pikachu. Surely, the idea is inexplicably outrageous. This can't possibly be accurate. It cannot possibly be **real**._

 

_And how is Pikachu supposed to respond to this anyway? He doesn't know a single thing about the concept of love. He has never been interested in a single other pokemon. He has never once been enticed by Buneary or by Emolga or by any other female pokemon in Ash or the others' parties. He's never been interested in any female pokemon, period._

 

_But... Maybe that's his issue right there._

 

_He has never been enthralled by a female pokemon, because maybe... he was never interested to begin with._

 

_But as Pikachu soon realizes, he's never felt any semblance of feelings for a male pokemon, either. Then again, he's never felt the need to consider. And that could be his issue right there._

 

_But even if he was interested in a pokemon of his own gender—which, he's not entirely convinced that he is or isn't yet—that doesn't change the fact that the pokemon who has taken an interest in him is Meowth. The sleazebag, the dirty, rotten, no good **liar**._

 

_Pikachu hasn't forgotten the pain Meowth has left him in during their time together in Unova. That searing heartbreak of believing his intentions to be true, to be a fool and actually **believe** that Meowth has changed his ways. He hasn't forgotten that. And he never will. Pikachu considers himself to be quite the forgivable one, able to give clemency to even the most rotten of people and pokemon, but Meowth pushes his limits farther than anyone else on this entire planet._

 

_And why is it like that? Why does Pikachu fret so much over what side of the coin Meowth is on?_

 

_Actually... he knows the answer. He knows that he enjoys Meowth's company, odd and infuriating as it is. He knows that he wishes that Meowth would truly change sides, would truly give up the chase and come to live on his own side of the law. Perhaps... even by his own side, as well. Pikachu knows the reason... he just hates to admit it._

 

_They aren't friends, but they could be. It's not out of the question. They have been kind to one another. They have helped each other out of more than one dilemma before. They certainly haven't broken bread together, but they have broken a countless number of apples, and even a bar of chocolate—and that must mean something, right?_

 

_Pikachu knows it. And he hates it._

 

_He murmurs out his lamentations with a sigh, desperately wishing he could scream into the void or perhaps into another pokemon's ear—one that's not his friend, and **not** his enemy, one that he doesn't know and never will know, that will understand everything he has to say and yet say nothing to him at all. At this point, he wishes he could talk to Ash, and that Ash would know more about the topic of love._

 

_But that's not happening anytime soon. So Pikachu sinks his body into the earth, waiting patiently for the dirt to consume him as he stares wavering daggers into the flower that's caused this mess. And like always, Ash senses the distress Pikachu emits, and puts a comforting hand on his back._

 

_“I mean, I don't really get why Meowth would have feelings for him, but...” Serena continues. “What else is a rose like that supposed to mean?”_

 

_“Happiness or friendship or something?” Ash guesses. “Isn't that what some roses mean?”_

 

_“Yeah—yellow ones. But he gave Pikachu a_ _**red** _ _one.”_

 

_“Maybe red was all they had?” Clemont suggests._

 

_Irises meant hope. Wildflowers meant adoration. Sunflowers signified loyalty while daisies told someone, 'I admire youse a whole lot'. It's been such a long time since their one encounter in that vast flower field, but somehow Meowth's teachings about flowers and their meanings have found a permanent home in Pikachu's head._

 

_They never did find any roses, he remembers. According to the cat, they were the most well-known romantic flower of them all. Red ones in particular, their crimson hue demonstrating an undying love that no other flower can even hope to match. Meowth had specifically looked for them, but he settled for a carnation, instead._

 

_...And he had given the carnation to Pikachu, too._

 

It certainly is a surprise. With these thoughts ringing through his mind, combined with this stunning spectacle, it all makes almost too much sense.

 

“ _What's..._ ” Pikachu finally utters out. “ _What's this all about?_ ”

 

“Oh, nothin',” Meowth hums. He looks away, scratching at his head. His mouth twists into a nervous, toothy grin. “I was just feelin' generous today, so I thought I'd treat ya.”

 

“ _...With a date?_ ”

 

Meowth visibly tenses, his face bursting with color. “It ain't a date! A date would imply that I like you. Which I don't.”

 

“ _But..._ ” Pikachu looks around. At the dinner, at the decorations, at Jessie and James just behind them starting up a new song on the violin and accordion, respectively. The mouse winces at the sound. Either those two instruments were never meant to go together, or those two people were never meant to play. “ _This is all date stuff. Dinner, music, candles, roses... This is literally everything you were asking me about earlier. It's totally a date._ ”

 

Meowth tsks with his tongue. “You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You'd like to think I gots a big whoppin' crush on youse, and that I set all this up just like you described just so's I can impress you. But you'd be wrong. 'Cause I don't like you.”

 

The cat unfolds his napkin, draping across his lap. He takes a small sip of his wine, licking his lips clean, eyeing Pikachu intently. Pikachu's vacant stare brings about a small but noticeable sigh.

 

“Why don't you dig in?” Meowth perks right back up, gesturing with both hands to the large plate of pasta between them. “I made it myself, specially for you.”

 

One large plate serves as their meal; not two separate ones, but one whole plate. The impracticality of it all continues to baffle Pikachu to no end. But in reality, he should have come to expect it. Team Rocket always had been a group of cheapskates.

 

But Pikachu would be lying if he said that the meal didn't look downright scrumptious. The noodles glisten in the light, coated with a blanket of marinara. The meatballs, while not really Pikachu's particular favorite choice of food, are plump and juicy and bursting with spices. He never expected someone from Team Rocket to cook up such a delectable meal, but here it is, right in front of him. The steam wafts from the noodles into the crisp night air, beckoning with a savory scent Pikachu's name.

 

But that doesn't mean Pikachu has to respond to its call.

 

“ _It's not poisoned, is it?_ ” he can't help but ask.

 

“Wh-what?! Of course not—I wanna _kiss_ you, not _kill_ you!”

 

Pikachu's face erupts in flames. “ _ **What**_ _was that?_ ”

 

“I mean, uh....” Meowth grits his teeth together, sweat gleaming from his forehead. “Here, how 'bout this—how's about I try it first, so's you know it ain't poisoned? That's a good plan, don'tcha think??”

 

Meowth swipes up his fork and jams it into the mess of spaghetti, hardly bothering to spin his utensil but rather grabbing hold of a tangle of noodles that fall into a jumble across his mouth and his lap. With a self conscious cringe, Meowth swipes the lost strands up with his paws into their rightful place inside his mouth. Suddenly, his face burns and his eyes water. He manages to swallow, but not without fanning his tongue and downing half his wine afterwards.

 

Once he realizes the comedy play he's unwillingly starred in, Meowth hastily dabs his mouth with his napkin and grins. “S-see? Nothin' to worry about 'cept for the heat!”

 

Pikachu isn't entirely convinced, but he supposes the meal must be alright if Meowth is willing to make a fool out of himself over it. Besides, it's a free dinner, assuming Team Rocket didn't steal the ingredients. Pikachu has his own fork and napkin arrangement, and though a rope secures him tightly to the chair he sits in, his arms are free. And the pasta is just within his reach.

 

Pikachu grabs his fork with small, dainty fingers. The utensil barely fits in his hand, Meowth notices; and the fact nearly causes the cat to squeal in adoration. He manages to keep his mouth shut, and watches as Pikachu arduously twists a tangle of saucy noodles onto his fork and takes a tentative bite.

 

“Is it good? The best youse ever had? The cat's 'meowth'?” Meowth asks, too excited to even wait for Pikachu to finish his mouthful. The cat shakes in his seat, brimming with anticipation for an answer.

 

While Jessie and James dished out the expenses to put everything else together, Meowth had taken it upon himself to prepare the meal. Given his expertise in noodle making, it's only the obvious choice.

 

This delicacy is his best ever, bar none. The noodles are sliced perfectly with love, the sauce only enriching that tenderness. The meatballs, easily his favorite part of the whole course, he adorned with a single sweet sentiment each: 'I adore you to bits,' for one; 'You never cease to amaze me,' for another. He can only hope that Pikachu can taste the love and care he's put in to every one.

 

Pikachu tastes something, that's for sure. The noodles fill his mouth with a warmth and sweetness he's not sure if he's ever experienced. Or perhaps they feel different simply because he hadn't expected the meal to taste _good_.

 

Better than good, even. It's easily the best dish of pasta he's ever tasted. Whatever Meowth did, Pikachu's impressed. But he's not yet willing to inflate the cat's ego with compliments.

 

“ _It's alright,_ ” he replies once he gulps down his first bite. Meowth nearly falls off of his chair.

 

“Alright? Alright?! I'll have you know I put a lotta work into this—” Meowth cuts his rant short once he notices Pikachu's giggling. “Oh—you're bein' funny, huh?”

 

Meowth shoves his fork back into the meal, twisting it into the mess of spaghetti. He shoves the food into his mouth, his lower lip pouting comically.

 

“ _Gotta say, Meowth,_ ” Pikachu says. “ _I didn't think you had it in you to put this much effort into a date. I'm touched._ ”

 

The cat chokes mid-swallow. With a great deal of effort, Meowth gulps the noodles down, tears dotting his eyes from the brief period of asphyxiation. “It ain't a date!” He repeats. In a blink of an eye, he grows sheepish once again, his head dipped between his shoulders as he shows off a toothy grin adorned with a pink tint. “But, uh... I'm touched you feel that way.”

 

Meowth is the biggest liar Pikachu has ever seen. He isn't even very skilled at hiding it, either. It's hilarious watching Meowth make a total fool of himself while still under the guise that he's pulling off a dastardly deception. It's kind of cute, too.

 

A particularly painful note plays from one of the instruments, jolting Pikachu back to reality, and back to his senses. Cute? No way. Meowth isn't cute. He's silly and weird, an obnoxious loudmouth who, like his friends, doesn't know when to quit even when he has no chance in the world of succeeding. Inspiring, in that regard, maybe. But not cute. Not in looks, not in attitude, not in actions.

 

The two pokemon meet eyes for a small second. Meowth is the first to shy away, grinning his nervous grin again. Amber candlelight dances in his sapphire eyes.

 

Okay. Maybe he is _a little bit_ cute.

 

They poke their forks into the spaghetti again, slurping the noodles whilst Jessie and James serenade them with their 'unique' playing skills. Pikachu can feel their gazes upon him without even turning to look. They're in on this, too, he knows. It's not like he can interrogate the two humans, but he's sure they'd spill the beans if the topic arose in conversation.

 

Still... Pikachu can't help but shake the feeling that something isn't right. This can't possibly be real, he reasons. The more and more he considers this—the setting, the situation, the _company_ , everything—the more Pikachu is convinced it's a dream. It's right out of a silly fairy tale, one that's so outrageous, the only time people bring mention to it is to laugh at its ridiculousness.

 

And sure Meowth is outrageous. Sure Jessie and James are, too. But they are also all liars. Meowth, especially.

 

At least that's what Pikachu tries to keep reminding himself. At this point, he's not sure what's worse: Meowth playing him like a fiddle in another one of his dastardly routines, or the chance that this could quite possibly be one hundred percent real.

 

“What're you starin' at?” Meowth breaks Pikachu from his thoughts again. “Somethin' funny?”

 

“ _I'm just trying to figure you out,_ ” Pikachu replies. “ _Why would you go through all the trouble of putting this together if you_ _ **don't**_ _like me?_ ”

 

“I can't show off my charm and good will?”

 

“ _It's not like you. You're never this nice. Unless you have something to gain._ ”

 

“Not true!” Meowth huffs, and tosses his 'nose' into the air. “I can do nice things without wantin' somethin'. Lookit me now—I put on this nice date—err, platonic get-together just for you, outta the kindness a' my heart.”

 

“ _Which you had to kidnap me for._ ”

 

Meowth's smile falters just the slightest bit. “Well... Wouldja've come if I asked, instead?”

 

Pikachu pauses for a moment in thought. “ _Probably not..._ ”

 

“Well there you have it! See? I got my reasons for why I do what I do.”

 

“ _But you_ _ **do**_ _want something,_ ” Pikachu says. “ _This is just a setup for me to let my guard down so you can take me to your boss, isn't it?_ ”

 

Meowth looks shocked, then angry, then disappointed, all in a span of two seconds. With a breath, he regains his composure, though he's taken a considerable distance from the table back in his chair. “Ya know, it ain't always about bosses and money and rare pokemon and stuff. Maybe I just did this 'cause I think your a swell pokemon.”

 

Pikachu's eyelids flutter, and suddenly, he has to fight a small hint of a smile from growing. “ _So you're saying you_ _ **do**_ _like me?_ ”

 

The way Meowth flusters and reddens only makes the tugging at his lips even tighter. “I-in a way, I guess...” Meowth stutters. “But don't look too deep into it! It ain't like anythin' you're thinkin' of.”

 

Pikachu laughs; his giggles are a chorus of angels in Meowth's ears.

 

They each take a break in their conversation to focus on their meal. Mouthful by mouthful, they peacefully devour the noodles and meatballs. With each bite, Pikachu feels a little more confused, a little more unconvinced that this is just a set up. With all the effort and work Meowth has put into this whole scenario, surely there's a chance that it's not make-believe. And the way Meowth talks—the way he gets so flustered and red-faced when Pikachu argues that this most certainly is a date... Sure it's not like him, but Pikachu gets the feeling it's real.

 

Meowth rolls a meatball that lingers in the middle of the plate over to Pikachu's side, smiling sweetly when their eyes meet again. Meatballs are Meowth's favorite food item on this whole dish, Pikachu knows. He... didn't have to do that. He didn't have to set this whole thing up for him.

 

The more Pikachu thinks about it, the more he realizes that Meowth has done a lot of things for him that he didn't have to do. Meowth didn't have to aid him in his flower picking. He didn't have to give him warmth in the form of a shared blanket. He didn't have to free a bunch of cave pokemon, or share an expensive bar of chocolate with him, or even allow Pikachu to electrocute him to within an inch of his life to cure his own sickness.

 

Meowth didn't have to do any of that. He could have just walked away, left Pikachu in the dust. But he chose to stay.

 

Pikachu's cheeks grow hot once again, hotter than any flame he's ever felt. He must be sick, he concludes with haste. That's the only explanation. He turns away to face the literal music, looking anywhere but at Meowth.

 

The cat twirls his fork into a mess of sauce-coated spaghetti, idly bringing the forkful to his mouth to chew. Pikachu does the same with his own noodles, and it's only as Meowth's watching him that he realizes their two strands are connected.

 

Meowth nearly gasps, but keeps his cool. It doesn't seem like Pikachu notices just yet; he's too busy watching the spectacle that is Jessie and James, just as Wobbuffet joins in with a kazoo. If he plays his cards right and also 'feigns' to notice, then Meowth's sure he can sneak a kiss!

 

They both chew slowly, bodies leaning in closer in an attempt to find their straggling noodles' end. Closer and closer they come to each other; the other Rockets seem to play a bit more intense with every second they watch.

 

Meowth can feel Pikachu's warmth radiating off of him. There's only a couple inches of noodle separating their lips. The cat's heart beats so fast he thinks it'll explode.

 

He closes his eyes, his face erupting in scarlet. Here it comes, _here it comes!!_

 

The noodle suddenly snaps.

 

The sensation of the broken strand dangling upon his chin makes Meowth jolt his eyes open. He's met with the wide eyes of Pikachu, whose cheeks are possibly redder than his electric sacs. Meowth stays silent for a moment, slurping up the tail end before breaking into an awkward smile.

 

“Gee, Pikachu! That sure was a good catch there!” He says a little too loudly, a little too forcefully. “Lucky you saw that, otherwise that woulda been _reeeeeaaaally_ awkward. 'Specially since I don't like you and all.”

 

He gives a loud, nervous guffaw, which, in reality, is not fooling anyone. Pikachu can only stare.

 

“So, Pikachu!” Meowth clears his throat again. Perhaps he can save this awkward moment. “How's the trainin' life goin'? You still sweepin' gym battles left and right?”

 

“ _Uh..._ ” Pikachu blinks back to reality, trying to recall what it is Meowth even asked of him. “ _I-I guess. But it's not just me, it's all of Ash's other pokemon, too._ ”

 

Meowth sighs. “It's so cute how you're always so modest...” He murmurs under his breath. He shakes his head, freeing himself from too many adoring thoughts. “I mean, uh—you shouldn't put yourself down like that! If it weren't for you, your twerpy— _Ash_ would still be wanderin' clueless around Kanto.”

 

“ _I-I guess... But..._ ”

 

“What's the 'but' for? There's nothin' contestable 'bout that! Why, if I were human, and I had you for my star pokemon, I'd be the happiest, most luckiest trainer in the whole world.” Meowth notices Pikachu's dumbfounded stare, and cuts his airy tone immediately. “Heh... Guess it's a good thing I ain't human, though.”

 

That didn't come out nearly as smooth as Meowth had hoped. Wrong topic. Wrong mindset.

 

He bears his teeth again, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead as he tries to come up with another, less awkward subject. Of course, the only things he can think to say are how much he adores the mouse, and how much he wants to be with him always. Things that one can't quite say when one is currently trying to hide the fact that they adore said pokemon and want to spend every waking moment with them.

 

He's at a loss. Romance used to come so easily, so naturally to him. Back when it was simple. Back when a cute cat gave him nothing but a coy smile and a wink, and that was all it took to make him fall.

 

Meowth thinks back to what Jessie said. About this possibly being just a small crush and nothing more; something that will only burn a few days before it fizzles out and dies. He can't decide whether that would be the preferable option or not. On one hand, a small crush would be easy to live with, save for the utter humiliation he has put himself through just trying to convey feelings to his _enemy_ , of all pokemon.

 

Then again... There's something that feels so different about this. Something so wrong, yet so right. He doesn't get it, but then again, he's never experienced a love like this until now.

 

How is it that a mouse—a small, pudgy, electric mouse—can render the cat so unbelievably languid?

 

Maybe he should just say something. Awkward as the confession will be and unrealistic as his ideal outcome is, Meowth feels trapped keeping everything inside. Like he's hiding away a part of himself, all for the sake of potentially pleasing his love. And it's clear that Pikachu's not buying the act, though it's obvious the mouse is getting a kick out of watching Meowth continuously making a fool of himself. It's something Pikachu will have to hold over Meowth's head for the rest of their days, but it'll be worth it if Meowth can finally spill his heart out like he yearns so badly to.

 

“Hey, uh... Pikachu?” He says quietly.

 

“ _Yeah?_ ” Pikachu pauses in his eating to look up to his dinner companion.

 

“Would, uh... Would you think a' us as friends?”

 

The mouse's eyebrows scrunch together as he ponders, his lips pursing into a thin line.

 

“ _I... don't know,_ ” he answers unsurely. “ _We're enemies, but... we've had good times together. We've helped each other out a lot. And I think I know a few things about you that not a lot of people do. And, well...”_ He sighs. _“I think you know a few things about me that other people don't know, too. That's gotta count for something._ ”

 

It's the answer Meowth expects, the one he tells himself over and over again in his head. They're not friends, but they're not quite enemies, either. Good enough to base an acquaintance on, but not quite the status necessary to spark a relationship with.

 

“Do ya think we ever _could be_ friends?” Meowth continues.

 

“ _I... I don't know.... Maybe, if you just stopped doing so many bad things—_ ”

 

Yet another answer he had predicted. This endeavor seems to get more hopeless with each question Meowth lobs Pikachu's way.

 

“Fair enough...” Meowth mumbles. “Maybe one day. Then who knows? We might grow to be more than just pals. Maybe we could travel together, see the world. Then maybe we could live together and work together, and, and—”

 

He realizes his rambling before it gets too intense, so he cuts his thoughts short.

 

Meowth sighs. “Pikachu?”

 

“ _Yeah, Meowth?_ ” Pikachu replies.

 

“Once we're finished eatin'... Do you wanna dance?”

 

At first he's surprised. Pikachu develops a blush of his own, which he tries to hide by gazing down at the ropes that bind him. “ _I'm a bit tied up a the moment,_ ” he says.

 

“I'll cut ya loose,” Meowth offers in return. “I may be a bit rusty, but... If it'll make you happy...”

 

Pikachu lowers his fork, conflicting thoughts running rampant in his mind. Finally, he meets Meowth's eyes and offers a soft smile. “ _Sure._ ”

 

Meowth is positively glowing.

 

“We found you, Team Rocket!!”

 

The rustle in the nearby shrubbery and the shout cause Meowth's glow to fade.

 

“The twerps,” He hisses back.

 

The music abruptly comes to a halt when the four kids make their way into the secluded forest. Jessie clutches the bow in one hand, as well as the violin's neck in the other, ready to wield the two pieces as weapons. “You weren't supposed to show up for at least another half an hour!” she shouts.

 

“Well we found you, didn't we?” Ash responds. “Now give back Pikachu!”

 

Bonnie steps forward, less focusing on the battle that's sure to ensue, and more on the scene that plays out in front of her. She tilts her head to the side, and Dedenne pokes his head out from her bag at the smell of food. “Are you guys having a date?”

 

Meowth pouts and slams his paws on the table, shaking the glasses of wine. “It ain't a date!” He shouts back, flustered and red in the face. “It's just a happy little get-together!”

 

Bonnie holds her hands to her mouth to try and contain her giggles. Serena and Clemont can't help but stare, bewildered by the spectacle before them.

 

“Oh gosh... This totally is a date,” Serena gasps. Clemont merely nods, feeling much like he's walked into a private matter in which he has no business in being a part of.

 

Ash keeps his confused face, eyes occasionally flitting to the odd scene that plays in front of him. But he continues to focus on his trapped pokemon before anything else. “Well, whatever it is, you took Pikachu away from me. So give him back.”

 

Pikachu isn't entirely sure what to think. Of course he's happy to see Ash. Of course he's happy that he found him so quick, and that he plans to fight in order to get him back.

 

But there's a part of Pikachu that doesn't want to leave quite yet. The night's still young, and they haven't even finished their meal. Not to mention, Meowth now owes him a dance.

 

It doesn't look like he's getting that dance now.

 

And suddenly he wonders why such a realization hurts.

 

He can see the hairs on Meowth's back slowly rising in hostility, his claws curling around the tablecloth's fabric, surely poking holes. “I'm in the middle a' somethin' here, in case you couldn't tell,” he growls out.

 

“Stay in your seat, Meowth,” James interjects, the accordian slumping from his hands to the ground with one last note. James pulls out a pokeball, as does Jessie. “We'll handle this.”

 

He releases Inkay from his capsule, the squid twirling weightlessly in the air as he floats. Pumpkaboo follows soon after, her spotlights brightening up the arena.

 

“If you want your Pikachu, you'll have to go through us, first,” Jessie announces.

 

“Fine by me,” Ash replies. He pulls out a pokeball of his own. “Froakie, go!”

 

“You too, Bunnelby!” Clemont joins in.

 

The two pokemon stand side by side, staring down the opposite team of Inkay and Pumpkaboo. Each pokemon and each trainer stands poised and ready, appendages twitching, anxious to get started. Meowth and Pikachu can only watch from their front row seats, the latter without a say in the matter, the former simply enjoying the show.

 

“Inkay, Psybeam!”

 

“Pumpkaboo, Shadow Ball!”

 

The two fire off their respective shots as soon as they are given the word. Froakie leaps out of the way, while Bunnelby uses Dig to avoid the attacks.

 

The bunny emerges from the ground just below Pumpkaboo, slamming into her with the power of a drill. The impact sends her flying back, but Pumpkaboo keeps her stance and floats right back into the fight.

 

“Froakie, use your Frubbles to slow them down!”

 

The frog responds by grabbing hold of his scarf of sticky foam and pulling out two ample clumps. He tosses them at the same time, one towards the staggered Pumpkaboo, the other right towards Inkay. With a quick dodge, Pumpkaboo manages to avoid the attack. But Inkay registers the assault a second too late, and is met with a face-full of Frubbles.

 

James's look of worry doesn't go unnoticed by Jessie; she motions for Pumpkaboo to cover for Inkay, tossing her sights to Froakie. “Leech Seed on that annoying frog, Dear!” She commands.

 

Pumpkaboo shoots a seed to the ground in front of Froakie that, in seconds, entangles him in a mess of draining vines. He grunts in pain, his energy slowly being sapped away from him.

 

Still free and able to move around, Bunnelby takes the opportunity to fire off a Mudshot, slapping Pumpkaboo with a shot of sloppy earth. She crashes to the ground, her spotlights flickering before going dark.

 

Jessie winces. “Pumpkaboo, return!” She calls out, returning her pokemon to her home. She turns to her partner. “Looks like it's up to you, James.”

 

James hums his affirmation, locking eyes with his pokemon as he gives a nod of compliance. “Okay, Inkay—use Foul Play on Froakie!”

 

In an instant, Inkay dashes forward to the trapped pokemon, a dark aura surrounding his being. Froakie tugs and pulls at the vines that still surround him, but, unable to move freely, is forced to take the hit. The frog tumbles to the ground, the vines falling like ratty strands of hair around him. Bunnelby is immediately by his side, helping him up to his feet.

 

“You okay, Froakie?” Ash calls out. Froakie gives a small nod. “Alright then, Double Team!”

 

Upon the command, Froakie multiplies into a thousand copies, each encircling the outcrop in a blur of blue. He runs so quickly, Meowth can feel the velocity at which he whizzes by.

 

But Inkay is confused. The squid darts around in every which way, trying desperately to locate the missing Froakie. In a panic, he still follows James' orders, and fires off his Foul Play attack in every which way he sees movement.

 

One towards the twerps, one just barely missing Jessie and James, and one—one that skims the dinner table, which, coincidentally, happens to be where Froakie is hiding.

 

“Water pulse!”

 

“Join in with Mudshot, Bunnelby!” Clemont adds on.

 

The blotch of mud smacks into Inkay first, sending him careening into the table. The Water Pulse sends him flying right back into James, but not before destroying the table set entirely.

 

The table flips onto its side, tossing its contents to the air. The peeled petals float and dangle against the wind, scattering as the draft picks up. The plate and the glasses fracture from the force, their contents now food to the wurple. And the rose—the rose Meowth gave to Pikachu, that once decorated their table in a crystalline vase—crashes onto the dirt, its support shattered and its life preserve seeping away.

 

The two pokemon can only watch, Pikachu holding on for dear life to his chair to ensure that he doesn't topple over too, Meowth stricken with unabashed devastation.

 

“Guess that's that,” Ash amends, paying the scene no mind. He high-fives Clemont, and the two return their pokemon to their respective balls.

 

“Nice fighting, you guys,” Serena congratulates them. “You destroyed them!”

 

“Yeah, but with Team Rocket, that's not really hard,” Bonnie laughs.

 

The sudden sound of a fist pounding against wood accompanied by a low, agitated growl stuns the quartet into silence. They turn their attention to the dinner table, where Meowth is absolutely seething. He sits rigid in his chair, digging deep trenches into its wooden base with his claws. He bares his teeth, and they almost think they can see him foaming at the mouth.

 

“All I wanted...” Meowth growls out. “Was a nice, quiet night alone with Pikachu...”

 

He reaches his paw for something hidden behind his chair.

 

“And here you are, _again_... Comin' to ruin _everythin'_ I worked _so hard_ to set up...”

 

Meowth finds what he's looking for. Pikachu gulps.

 

“Well not this time!” From underneath the chair, Meowth produces a powerful-looking bazooka, so large in size, it looks like Meowth might just topple over from carrying it. He keeps it steady, however, and aims it right at the twerps. “ _Not tonight!_ ”

 

He squeezes the trigger. A rope net with heavy weights secured to the ends flies out towards the kids, soaring like a bullet through the air.

 

With a collective yelp, each of the twerps throw themselves to the ground, covering their heads to avoid getting smacked by the weights. The net sails over their heads harmlessly, heading instead straight for Wobbuffet.

 

The patient pokemon panics. He emits a frightened shriek, then throws his arms behind him and coats himself with his sparkling protection aura. The net hits him, but bounces right off in a mere second.

 

And gets returned right on back to its sender. Meowth barely has time to yelp before the net surrounds and tackles him down to the grass.

 

The net weighs him down to the ground, the heavy weights offering no space to move around in. Meowth tugs and pulls at the ropes, thrashing about in a vain attempt to free himself, but it's useless. It's over.

 

He grips helplessly at his binds, forced to watch as the twerps make their way over to Pikachu with the pitiful looks emblazoned in their eyes, forced to watch as Ash unties Pikachu and envelopes him in a warm, tight embrace.

 

They're going to take him away. They're going to take him away and ruin all the hard work he's put into this night and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

 

' _Do somethin'...'_ His mind implores him. ' _He's gonna leave, do somethin'!_ '

 

Pikachu climbs atop of Ash's shoulder, settling in snuggly against the crook of his neck. His eyes wander to Meowth, shining with something desolate and maudlin. Meowth knows it's pity, and had it been any other pokemon or person looking down at him with such a soppy gaze, he'd have been infuriated.

 

Instead his world crumbles. Shatters into pieces. Everything he's worked for, everything he's put his heart and soul into creating... now lays dead at his feet. Meowth lays amongst the broken shards of his plans, fingers curling around the jagged edges as he tries not to cry over his new accomplishment of failure.

 

A whirlwind romance he had planned in his head; a romance that would sweep his past attempts under the floor and sweep his darling Pikachu right off his feet. The plan was to woo the cute little mouse's heart, show him that perhaps maybe, just maybe, there's a life for them beyond just battling and capturing.

 

Instead Meowth danced around his plan. He danced and sang his song of masquerade, playing the part of the Fool instead of the Roguish Lover like he intended. And not a very convincing Fool, either. Just a fool, confused by his own feelings, unsure how to act or react to this train wreck of events.

 

All he knows is that he has failed. Failed to captivate, failed to capitalize, failed to conquer. An opportunity, slim as it was, slipped right on by, while he had been too busy putting on a dashing front instead of acting.

 

Everything used to come so easy to him. Now, it seems, love is a complex and unforgiving game in which he has no clue how to play.

 

“C'mon Pikachu,” Ash murmurs. “Let's go.”

 

Pikachu mumbles a quiet response, too quiet for Meowth to quite catch. He locks eyes with the cat once more, sighing at the sight of him and his date in shambles. His gaze falls around him, to the toppled table, to the mangled meal, to the ruby rose that has since fallen from its supporting vase to the ground just before Meowth.

 

Meowth focuses on it, too. The water that previously sustained its life now leaks from the broken vase into the earth below. Though the rose is motionless in the dead air, Meowth can see how it beckons and calls for someone to claim it and give it a home once again.

 

It suddenly clicks in his head. What in the world is he doing, wallowing in self pity like this? The night has not finished yet. Pikachu isn't gone. Though he'll never get another opportunity quite like this again, it doesn't mean he should let this ruined one pass him by.

 

Meowth isn't getting his dance. But there's still one thing left to do.

 

“Wait!” He shouts. He grips the ropes with his teeth and extends his claws, gnawing and clawing at his binds until they loosen. “We ain't finished yet!”

 

The twerps stop and turn back towards him. Pikachu tilts his head curiously, poised on Ash's shoulder as if awaiting the opportunity to hop off.

 

The ropes chisel and snap within Meowth's teeth, slice into ribbons beneath his claws. With an effort, the cat manages to untangle himself from the mess and stand upright. He swipes the fallen rose from the ground with his tail, and he points up to Pikachu, panting in an attempt to regain his breath.

 

“Battle me,” He commands.

 

Pikachu's eyes widen a bit in surprise, as do Ash's and the others'. “Wait, what?” Ash questions.

 

“ _Battle_ _me,_ ” Meowth repeats. “No tricks, no trainers—just you and me, one on one. How's about it, Pikachu?”

 

At first, Pikachu looks to Ash for some sort of confirmation, who can only offer a slight shrug in the form of an eyebrow raise. So the decision falls on him.

 

It's not every day that Meowth challenges Pikachu to a battle. In fact, he can't even recall such an event ever transpiring in the past. But Pikachu can feel the passion Meowth puts out, the tenacity he upholds. And suddenly, Pikachu can only blush.

 

A battle is the single greatest gift Meowth can surprise him with, better than a dance, even. And Pikachu would be a fool not to say yes.

 

The mouse hops off to the grass, an elated grin playing on his face and eyes filled to the brim with glee.

 

“ _You're on._ ”

 

Meowth smiles in return, and they take their stances on the opposite sides of the battlefield. The twerps gather some distance behind Pikachu, anxiously watching and silently cheering him on. Jessie and James have since readjusted themselves within the balloon's basket, content with leaning over the rim and idly watching the battle as if it were nothing more than a B-rated movie.

 

“Go get him, Meowth!” James cheers.

 

“Show off those mean Fury Swipes of Love,” Jessie adds.

 

 _'Oh, I intend to,'_ Meowth silently agrees.

 

There's no way he's winning this battle against such an experienced, veteran fighter. But if a battle is what Pikachu wants, then he's going to damn well give one to him.

 

“You ready, Pipsqueak?” he calls over.

 

“ _Whenever you are._ ”

 

They begin to circle the arena, one step at a time, never taking their eyes off each other. They patiently await for one another to make the first move, both antsy to attack.

 

Without warning, Pikachu springs into a Quick Attack. He approaches and crosses the threshold between them so fast, Meowth barely has time to react. But he manages to leap out of the way, and even lands gracefully on his feet.

 

Meowth extends his claws in a flash of light, waiting for Pikachu to stop in his tracks and face him again. “Is that all you got, Pikachu?” He taunts playfully. Pikachu responds by readying up another attack, his grin contagious. “Alright, why don't you try my Fury Swipes on for size?”

 

He runs to meet Pikachu in the center of the field. As the mouse approaches, Meowth leaps and twirls into the air, slicing around him as he glides. As Pikachu grazes past him, Meowth can feel his claws making contact. The feeling alone nearly causes Meowth to topple over in shock.

 

He actually _landed a hit_. On _Pikachu_.

 

Pikachu stumbles, but it isn't long before he regains his footing. With a quick turn and twist, he launches an Electro Ball towards Meowth at bullet speeds. The self-centered smirk Meowth wears wipes off in an instant when he sees the attack. The ball of electricity collides with him in a direct hit, sending the cat spiraling backwards.

 

He lands on the ground, uprooting chunks of grass with each tumble he takes. But he still manages to land on his feet. Meowth takes a breath, and wipes the sweat from his brow. He can feel his heart pumping, his muscles burning; and for once, it feels _good_. The wounds he's accumulated singe with the dirt that soils them, but he barely notices the pain among the sweet adrenaline that pumps through his veins.

 

Meowth launches into an array of Fury Swipes again. Pikachu hops and bends and twists in order to avoid the attacks, to the point of which, to an onlooker, it might appear as though the two pokemon were performing an elaborate dance. The lines Meowth's claws draw in the dark night only add to the glamorous display, a light show complete with twisting ribbons and half-formed hearts.

 

Their makeshift dance ends when Pikachu counters with an Iron Tail. Meowth clenches his teeth and hisses in agony when the attack makes contact, even more so when he collides right back with the ground. He takes a moment to breathe before getting back up to his feet.

 

His heart pounds in his head. The edges of his vision go in and out of focus, sharpening and blurring at the blink of an eye. It's such an odd feeling, this rush of adrenaline. Something he's only felt a handful of times, so sporadically, in fact, Meowth never recalls the sensation until it hits again.

 

By this time in any other battle, he'd be down for the count. And though his limbs shake and his breath hitches, Meowth still feels the pressing need to keep going.

 

He watches Pikachu rebound. Watches the blades of grass dislodge themselves around him, watches Pikachu's eyes catch the light of the balloon's bulbs perfectly, watches his golden fur glisten against the moon's soft backdrop. And Meowth's heart melts.

 

“ _You okay over there?_ ” Pikachu calls over. Meowth doesn't know if the mouse caught on to his staring, or whether he's genuinely asking if Meowth is still able to go on.

 

Meowth brushes the dirt off himself, giving a half-salute in Pikachu's way. “Never been better.”

 

The way Pikachu grins is intoxicating.

 

The two charge forward again, each readying up an attack. Pikachu stops mid run, twists in his spot, and unleashes another Electro Ball. With a graceful hop, skip, and jump, Meowth dodges the attack. Pikachu fires off another ball of electricity, then another, then another. Meowth avoids every single one of them, gliding around them with such style and elegance, one would think he was figure skating instead of battling.

 

He's so entranced in his twizzles and cantilevers that Jessie's offhand comment of, “Gee, if Meowth dodged like that all the time, we wouldn't be losing so much,” flies right over his head.

 

One last Electro Ball grazes past Meowth, the stray strands of electricity frizzing his fur. He bends his body into a curve, dodging the last assault before preparing his own.

 

It's his turn now to lay on the attacks. Out his claws come, long and sharpened and perfectly manicured, if he does say so himself. Meowth brings one paw down in a slash, which Pikachu avoids effortlessly. He attempts another, yielding the same result.

 

It's time to get creative, Meowth decides. Time to show off those Fury Swipes of Love.

 

Meowth draws his claws across the open air, decorating the night with heart-shaped lights. With a flick of his wrists, the attacks fly forward. And Pikachu dances through them, the lines nothing more than a pretty light-show framing his perfect silhouette.

 

“Alright, you asked for it,” Meowth mocks playfully. “Ultimate Fury Swipes a' Love!”

 

The night erupts in a flurry of hearts and flowers and sparkles. There's so many that Meowth concocts, that there is no way every single one of them will miss their mark. He lands perfectly on his feet, watching simply as the cloud of lights envelopes Pikachu.

 

And Pikachu never ceases to amaze the cat. He _evades_ them. He evades Meowth's entire entourage. Not only that, but Pikachu counters with his own attack in order to knock some of the Fury Swipes out.

 

And subsequently knocks some of the attacks right back towards Meowth.

 

He barely has time to jump out of the way of his own assault. So little time, in fact, some of the stray shreds of light slice through him while the others dissipate in a puff of twinkles.

 

And through those twinkles, Pikachu charges through. An Iron Tail connects full-force against Meowth's head, an audible 'clunk!' sounding throughout the arena.

 

His head spins, visions of torchic dancing in his eyes. Meowth staggers backwards, his legs jelly underneath him. Finally, they give out, and Meowth falls back against the grass with a low groan of defeat.

 

“Pikachu, you won!” Ash cheers. Pikachu turns to his best friend with the world sparkling in his eyes, chirping out his matching excitement.

 

“And all without a trainer telling him what to do,” Clemont gapes. “That's... that's amazing!”

 

Bonnie's sentiments match Meowth's own, word for word. “That's Pikachu for you!”

 

Pikachu doesn't spend long basking in his well-earned glory. Rather, he turns to the fallen Meowth. He approaches softly, almost shyly, his cheeks flushed with the blood pumping through his veins.

 

His eyes shift cautiously to Jessie and James, expecting to see them preparing some half-baked, last minute trap to capture him with. But they sit motionless inside the basket, casually leaning over the rim as if it were a balcony they could watch the world over. The two give small, cheeky smiles, but make no effort to pull anything out.

 

“ _Hey, um..._ ” Pikachu says as he approaches his defeated opponent. “ _Good battle._ ”

 

Pikachu offers his paw to help Meowth to his feet. The cat blushes madly, his face redder than Jessie's hair, his smile wide and gleaming. He takes Pikachu's offer without hesitation.

 

“You really think so?” He asks, cupping his cheek with his free paw in bashfulness.

 

Pikachu nods. “ _Now that I know you're this good, I'm gonna be expecting you to put up fights like this all the time._ ”

 

Meowth gulps, but continues to smile. Pikachu didn't think Meowth's grin could get any wider, but the cat keeps on amazing him.

 

“Yeah, of course! Anythin' for you, Pikachu.” Meowth grows sheepish again, realizing what has slipped from his lips. He suddenly takes a profound interest in the grass around his feet, and idly taps at the blades with his toe.

 

Pikachu opens his mouth to respond, but the sight of a sparkly red rose held out dangerously close to his face stops him. The same rose from before—the one Meowth offered him earlier. There are a few petals missing, some of the remaining leaves torn from battle. But it's still beautiful, even if it's a bit tattered. Still plump and luscious and beautiful.

 

“ _For me?_ ” Pikachu questions.

 

Meowth begins to eagerly nod, but tries to return to his usual cocky, conceited demeanor. “'Cause it matches your cheeks so well. It don't mean that I like you or nothin'.”

 

“ _So you've told me._ ” They both know Pikachu can see straight through that little ploy. But Pikachu takes the rose anyway, holding it close to his heart, even as he begins to shuffle back to towards the company of his friends. “ _Thank you, Meowth. You didn't have to do all this. This was... surprisingly nice of you,_ ” he says before he leaves.

 

He holds the rose close to his heart, even as he and his ensemble head off into the night.

 

Pikachu still doesn't know how he feels about Meowth crushing on him. He's not sure if he finds it hilarious or terrifying or adorable or just plain strange. And he has no idea if he feels any form of reciprocation of those feelings. Love is such a difficult game, one that Pikachu has no idea how to play. But it certainly is... intriguing.

 

He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy this wonderfully odd, spectacularly sporadic, completely crazy night in some form or another. Pikachu enjoyed it, and he suddenly realizes as he looks back, he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

 

Team Rocket watches them go as a collective unit. Jessie and James, Wobbuffet too, crowd around Meowth, each of them lightly nudging him with their feet in a casual form of teasing.

 

“That didn't go too bad,” Jessie says.

 

“Good show, Meowth. Especially with that battle,” James puts in. Wobbuffet shouts his name and salutes in agreement.

 

“Gee, thanks, guys.” Meowth turns to his team, eyes practically glistening with tears of gratefulness.

 

With an exhausted sigh, Jessie unfastens the bow tie around her neck, looking around at the mess in front of her. She purses her lips, begrudgingly thinking about how much work they put into making this date look so captivating and how little it took to tear it all down. But her sneer turns into a smirk as she eyes Meowth, then she turns her attention to James.

 

“James, have you ever noticed that the only time Meowth's actually a competent battler is when he's head over heels for someone?” She asks.

 

James quickly adapts the same smirk. “Now that you mention it, Jessie—I think you may be onto something.”

 

“Hey, what're youse two tryin' to say?!” Meowth whines.

 

Jessie simply leans over and scoops Meowth up into her arms, hugging him tightly like a mother coddling her child. And like a coddled child, Meowth tries to protest the sudden burst of affection. But his escape grows significantly more difficult when James decides to join into the cuddle party.

 

“Oh, just that not only is our wittle Meowthy-wowthy in _love_ , but that love might come with a few extra benefits, too!” Jessie squeals. She reaches a hand to ruffle the fur atop of Meowth's head, which he desperately tries to swat away.

 

“How adorable, Jessie—two star-crossed lovers,” James adds. “Almost like Romeo and Juliet!”

 

“Hopefully Meowth isn't planning on swallowing any bottles of poison anytime soon,” Jessie jokes.

 

Meowth knows it's a joke, meant to be nothing more than a simple quip about that silly teen play. But still he sighs and melts in Jessie's arms, his whiskers drooping in wistful contemplation.

 

“I'd drink a thousand bottles for Pikachu.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So. Story time regarding this chapter and the last one.
> 
> A long time ago, back when Gillian thought it would be a good idea to try and make a 5 vs 1 trope for krazyshipping (yes, believe it or not--that was what this was originally supposed to be; only I could never actually figure out what I wanted the theme for the 5 vs 1 to be), I had 6 chapters--one for every region except Unova and Alola. I ignored Unova originally because.... honestly, I didn't really care for how the Rockets were portrayed during BW. Also, the Meowth arc just did a huuuuuuuge number on the entire Meowth/Pikachu relationship, both hypothetically and in canon.
> 
> So, my big, bright idea was just to ignore Unova and pretend it never happened.
> 
> Only problem... from chapter 4 to chapter 6, without chapter 5 in between, is a huuuuuuuuuge jump in mood. One moment, Meowth's freaking the fuck out over a forehead kiss, then next chapter, it's a full-blown crush with no buildup in between. Which, given Meowth's character, isn't out of the ordinary. It's pretty true to him, if we're being honest.
> 
> Except that would mean that I would have to expect y'all to just ignore the bigass leap in time from Mid-Sinnoh to early Kalos. Ridiculous, I know.
> 
> So that's the whole reason for chapter 5's existence. In truth, I'm kinda happy it happened, because Chapter 5 has kinda become one of my favorites, so it's not too bad, but...
> 
> @ me: jesus fuck how did you manage to screw up that bad
> 
> Of course, chapter 5's inclusion made this mess of a chapter an even steamier pile of shit, because I then had to bring up the events that transpired in BW and how they effected the present. Honestly, I didn't even make Pikachu react as reluctantly or as distrustingly as I could have during this part (perhaps, if I'm up to it, I'll try writing an introspective oneshot or something about it to really get nitty and gritty about it), but the fact that I had to change basically all I wrote originally just to fit along with chapter 5 was a nightmare.
> 
> ANYWAY, I think I've bored y'all enough with my self-deprecating complaints. Sorry for putting you guys through this mess of a chapter, I t hi nk the last chapter is better crafted, if a bit dumb, but y'all will have to be the judge of that tomorrow.


	7. Hitch a Rocket to a Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the last part, and a continuation of why I should never be allowed to write romances
> 
> We're back with the cheesiness, this time harboring as much cheese as a fucking elementary school crush
> 
> If you've stuck with me through this fic the entire way through, thank you very much! I apologize if this wasn't as enticing as Graveyard of Stars--but that just comes with me being a really shitty romance writer lol. Something I'll definitely need to improve upon if I want to bring more krazyshipping into this world
> 
> This chapter takes place in Kalos as well, sometime around Coumarine. Unfortunately, as much as I adore Alola, I don't think I'm quite ready to tackle the canon just yet. I feel as if I'm not familiar enough with the Alolan Twerp Troop to do them justice, as well as the fact that anything I could write would probably be immediately retconned, seeing as how the show is still pretty early in its arc.
> 
> So... I'll have to leave Alola for another day, unfortunately ;^;
> 
> Of course, because I pretty much live in the Misty Era of pokemon, I bring mention to a couple episodes of Indigo League in this part: The Bridge Bike Gang, and Wake Up, Snorlax! Technically you don't neeeeeed them to understand the story. they're basically just for flavor text; but it's always fun to watch Original Series episodes again, especially those two--they're some of my favorites ^^
> 
> This chapter houses 3 doodles, and I have to apologize for one of them being a meme--it was literally just me shitposting about my own fic. As I've said before, I'll post all my doodles on my tumblr (maybe instagram and twitter if I'm feeling up to it) sometime later.
> 
> As for any future fanfics..... I think I'm kinda burned out right now. Writing 2 consecutive multichapters (with this one newly becoming my longest fanfic ever!!!) is exhausting, and honestly I don't have any big ideas left in me. If I come out with anything anytime soon, they'll probably be just a couple oneshots or something.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, hope you enjoy, and I wish you all a happy New Year!!

Meowth absolutely despises boats.

 

Whether it be wooden or metal, a rowboat or an ocean vessel, he hates them all. He hates the way they rock and sway with the currents, the way they threaten to topple over and toss all their inhabitants into the unforgiving waves below, the way they sink or crack in two or cease functioning altogether if so much as _one_ hole punctures the hull.

 

It's not because he's seasick—he's had to overcome that a long time ago—perhaps it's just because he and Jessie and James have had one too many accidents with the Magikarp Sub. Then again, Meowth has hated boats even before they invested in that underwater deathtrap.

 

The cat takes a cautious look over the side of their runabout boat, trying to focus instead on the gaining twerps rather than the churning waters and pouring rain that surround him. He pulls the drawstrings on his raincoat hood tighter, the fabric crushing his ears against his skull. Meowth barely notices; all he wants is to keep out the cold and keep the water from soiling his fur.

 

“How much longer are we gonna be out here, Jess?” he ventures to ask. His voice is a pitiful squeak against the crashing waves.

 

“As long as it takes for us to lose the twerps and find shore,” Jessie huffs back. She never removes the binoculars from her eyes, never even takes a moment to look at her teammates manning the boat behind her.

 

Meowth looks back at the twerps hesitantly. Every second he watches, the group of kids sail increasingly closer. It's no wonder they do, in such a spectacular boat. Specially borrowed from the kind people of Coumarine, in tip-top working condition and in no way running dangerously low on fuel. Which is a lot more than he can say about their stolen hunk of junk that teeters on the brink of empty.

 

There is one saving grace to this horrendous excursion, however. At least Pikachu is right by Meowth's side. Granted, he's only there because Team Rocket captured him yet again and now an electric-proof glass dome serves as his prison, but Meowth likes to think that Pikachu's company goes beyond that.

 

It's a shame Pikachu looks so miffed about this situation, but honestly—Meowth can't blame him.

 

“ _Don't wait around!_ ” Pikachu protests, in the midst of the Rockets' conversation. “ _We'll get washed away if we stay out here!_ ”

 

Meowth's sentiments exactly. He crowds around the dome prison, trying as casually as he can to envelope it with his arms without being overly obvious or cowardly.

 

“What's the rat squeaking about?” Jessie questions.

 

“He's sayin' we should head for land while we still got a boat to sail in,” Meowth responds. “Ya know, that ain't a bad idea, Jess. Who _knows_ how bad this storm's gonna get?”

 

Jessie grits her teeth and sighs before lowering the binoculars. “Scaredy cat,” She mumbles, just loud enough for Meowth to hear. Jessie fixes him with a glare, but her dark gaze slowly softens upon seeing the agonizing worry in the cat's face. “Oh, alright. James, sail us over to that patch of land with the mountain.”

 

She points to the miniature island up ahead. Though the clouds darken the horizon and the rain falls in snow-white sheets, the crooked mountain still stands out as a beacon in the midst of the night.

 

“Aye-aye, Jess,” James calls from the helm. With a small jolt and stutter, the boat changes course and battles its way against the waves towards salvation.

 

Meowth breathes a sigh of relief and slumps into the torn, leathery seat beside Pikachu. He keeps his love's cage close, underneath his arm and close to his heart. “We'll be okay, Pikachu—just you wait. Soon we'll be outta this stinkin' ocean and back on dry land, and outta the rain, too! A-and maybe, we'll have a fire we can curl up around, just you and me. Oooh, I can picture it now; can't you?”

 

It's mostly to reassure himself. Meowth already knows just how much braver Pikachu is than him. A storm like this is probably nothing more than a simple sprinkle from a garden hose compared to the monstrosities and apocalypses he's gone up against before. Still, Meowth likes to try and pretend that Pikachu just might be feeling the same fears that plague him.

 

And he is. It scares Pikachu to know that such a storm is raging, and they're caught right in the eye. It scares him even more to think how Ash and the others are following just behind in the same mess. Their boat's in better condition than Team Rocket's, thank goodness. But Pikachu knows just how little that means to the laws of nature.

 

James takes a moment from focusing on reaching their destination to peer behind him. The twerps are right on their tail, just as expected. But _how_ close they are to their tail is what worries him. “Twerps sighted, Jessie,” he calls up.

 

“Keep going, we're almost there!”

 

“Yes Ma'am—” The sudden sputtering of the engine and the red light on the console cuts off his response. James yelps.“I think this boat's just coughed up it's last breath...”

 

“Ugh, why now, of all times?” Jessie tosses the binoculars to the floor. She fights her way to the back of the boat, then digs up a pair of oars from the hidden compartment. “Alright. We'll just have to row.”

 

“Row?! Are you kiddin' me?! We'll never make it!” Meowth exclaims with wide eyes. Even as the suggestion leaves Jessie's lips, the waves seem to crash ever more violently against the boat.

 

“It's either that or capsize—take your pick, Meowth.”

 

Meowth looks to Pikachu, then to James. Both share the same fearful look as his own, both terrified at the thought of being stranded out in the ocean with nothing but wooden sticks to paddle to the shore with. And that shore is rocky and jagged and oh so far away.

 

They're going to die here. At first Meowth had a shred of hope. But now that hope's been dashed across the rocks.

 

“Team Rocket!” They hear the Head Twerp shout. Pikachu perks up, stretching to the best of his ability to see over the boat's walls.

 

“Give back Pikachu!” The Tiny Twerpette yells. It's amazing just how loud her voice is, especially considering how small she appears.

 

The twerps' boat floats just a few sweeping currents away, their vehicle swaying effortlessly with the waves. All the kids stand on the side of the boat, with the exception of the Inventor Twerp, who mans the controls. They look awful comfy in that boat, Meowth can't help but muse. What with those safe buoys and glass hood and high-fenced walls... Comfy and safe and dry. Or at least as dry as one can be in this weather.

 

An idea pops into Meowth's head. Perhaps, if he can play his cards right, he can trick the twerps into letting the Trio onto their boat and driving them to shore _for them_. All he needs is the perfect bait.

 

“Fat chance, Twerp!” Jessie shouts right back.

 

Meowth climbs up to the side of the boat, wiping away any shred of evidence of his previous terror. “Yeah, we ain't handin' your cute little Pikachu over just 'cause you asked us nicely!”

 

“We didn't ask, and we weren't being nice!” The Kalos Variety Twerpette replies.

 

“Oh s'mantics, shmantics! We still ain't gonna give him to ya!” And because Meowth just can't resist gloating about the things he has that others don't, he lifts Pikachu up by the cage, waving him over his head to show him off. He grins wildly when the twerps react to seeing his captive in his precarious hold. “If youse twerps want your Pika-pallie back, you're gonna hafta come and get him!”

 

Meowth allows himself a maniacal cackle, every second he spends ranting filling him with more and more confidence. That unyielding confidence that keeps him safe, makes him feel secure. The ocean becomes nothing more than churning bath waters, the spray of the waves no more than a light mist that sprinkles in his face. He feels on top of the world, and nothing can knock him down.

 

Pikachu does not share these sentiments. Especially when a particularly powerful wave smashes into the side of the boat.

 

Before Meowth can even make a move to save himself from tumbling, his grip on Pikachu's dome prison slips. The mouse falls from his paws towards the water faster than Meowth can comprehend, and yet somehow, time seems to slow to a crawl.

 

One second, Pikachu is in the safety of his hold. Another second, he's tumbling towards the deadly waves. Another, he's almost past the rim of the boat. Another, Pikachu's terrified tawny eyes meet Meowth's sapphire ones. In that second, Meowth knows he's made a grave mistake.

 

And he tries to catch Pikachu before it's too late. He really, truly tries. He even goes as far as to leap out of the boat, himself.

 

He doesn't realize what a horrible mistake he has made until he hits the water.

 

The liquid darkness swallows him up in milliseconds, its salty zest invading his senses. It takes every last shred of effort he has not to breathe it in.

 

The waves toss and turn Meowth around like a rag doll. He spins and spins with the forces, out of breath and out of control. Meowth kicks and thrashes his limbs out, desperately clawing for the surface. And only when his lungs begin to ache and his arms begin to burn does he finally break the water's suffocating hold.

 

He gasps, swallowing in breath after breath, as much as he can savor. The smaller waves dip him under, attempting to force him back down to the depths. Meowth coughs out the water that dares to flood his system, near panicking, struggling to stay afloat.

 

In the distance, he can hear Jessie and James's frantic calls for him. And to his chagrin, Meowth spots them searching for him amongst the black waters a great distance away. It seems that the currents have pulled him far, far, far away from his friends, farther than he'll ever be able to travel. He's never been a great swimmer, and the tides are only making a tough job even tougher.

 

“Jessie! James!!” He shouts as loud as he can. The splashing and crashing of the waves is difficult to compete against, but he manages to catch the two's attention.

 

“Meowth!” They both call simultaneously. “Hold on!”

 

Meowth sees them reach for the oars as well as their pokeballs. For a moment, relief washes over him. But then he realizes that the only thing that is actually washing over him is yet another tide. He tries to battle against it, keep his head above the water. But the ocean fights fiercer, and smashes into him with a thousand pounds of waves. He barely has the time to scream out a “Help!!” before he's pushed far under the water's surface.

 

He spirals out of control, bending to whatever shape the water wills him to be. Though he tries to struggle and fight against the current that holds him captive, he is powerless against its extraordinary force. Meowth can't help but yelp, his air exploding out of him in a cloud of bubbles.

 

He kicks and kicks until his world stops spinning. Everything around him is so dark and murky, though, that he can hardly recognize what's the surface and what's more of the abyss. His lungs give a painful lurch, screaming out for a breath of fresh air. With that lurch comes out another stream of bubbles; they float and float and finally pop against the blackness. Meowth follows their path, the only indication he has of freedom's whereabouts.

 

The water breaks above him with one final kick, the much-needed oxygen smacking him with its frigid force. Meowth swallows in gulp after gulp, coughing and sputtering out the salty remnants of ocean he has ingested. His chest unconsciously heaves, the exhaustion of battling against this watery hellhole overtaking him. He hardly has the strength to keep himself afloat, let alone swim his way over to Jessie and James.

 

Their vessel has fallen even further behind the waves. He barely sees it rising and falling with each bend of the water helplessly on the horizon. Meowth spots two small black dots floating in the air just above the boat, which Meowth can only assume are Inkay and Pumpkaboo, searching endlessly for their fellow pokemon.

 

“Jessie! James! Over here!!” Meowth calls again. Even though it's doubtful that they see him, he tries to wave his arms in the air in an attempt to grab their attention. But Pumpkaboo shines her lights in his direction, so someone must have noticed his calls.

 

“Pikachu! Hold on, I'm coming!”

 

That voice... It's the Head Twerp's. Meowth sweeps his head left and right, searching for the brat's boat. He spots it against the darkness not too far off to his left. He spots Ash, ready to leap out into the ocean without taking any precautions, and he sees the Kalos Variety and Fun-sized Twerpettes holding him back by his arms.

 

And just mere meters away from himself, Meowth spots Pikachu.

 

The glass dome still holds him captive, a helpless victim of the whirling waves. All Pikachu can do is hold on for dear life and hope for the tides to guide him to some form of safety. Meowth's heart jumps upon seeing him trapped within the ocean's grasp. Pikachu is fortunate that the capsule hasn't been unscrewed; he's still safe, in that regard. But Meowth knows Pikachu won't truly be safe until he's out of this storm.

 

“Pikachu!!” Meowth calls out to him.

 

Just seconds later, against the deafening booms of the water, he hears Pikachu calling back.

 

“Hold on, Pikachu! I'll be right there!”

 

He can't make it to a boat, but he'll be damned if he can't swim the distance to save Pikachu. It's difficult, what with the waves tossing him around up, down, and sideways. But with some effort and determination, Meowth exults the last of his energy in order to reach him.

 

“ _Meowth!_ ” Pikachu presses his paws against the glass, trying to steady himself within the dome. His eyes are as bright as the moon upon seeing the cat.

 

“I gotcha!” Meowth wraps his arms as tightly as he can around the capsule.

 

The air inside the glass container keeps Pikachu floating on his own, but the weight Meowth carries with him brings it down so that he is forced to continue to kick and keep himself afloat. Pikachu looks terrified—rightfully so, given his situation—but he's safe. He's safe, and that's the only thing that Meowth can focus on.

 

“I gotcha... I gotcha, I won't let you go,” Meowth repeats.

 

“ _I know... We're gonna be alright,_ ” Pikachu replies with a small smile.

 

Meowth grins too; but a realization suddenly cuts across his mind and wipes that momentary pleasure away. He squeezes the capsule tighter.

 

“This is all my fault... If it weren't for me, we wouldn't be stuck out here,” Meowth confesses. “I'm real sorry...”

 

Pikachu blinks; in no way was he expecting any sort of apology for Meowth's recklessness. He shakes his head. “ _Don't worry about that right now! Just keep holding on! Ash is almost here; we'll be fine!_ ”

 

Meowth sighs, his eyes glistening with wetness. Pikachu will be fine, so long as the capsule keeps together, he's sure of it. But with the way the ocean tosses the two around like an angry child with a beaten up stuffed animal, he's not so sure he can say the same about himself. “You're so sweet... I just hope you're right...”

 

The waves dip and sway the two, pushing and pulling them to their own rhythm. Countless times, the water pushes them both under for a split second, each time a bit deeper than the last. Meowth struggles to hang on, the fabric of his raincoat like soap against the glass. He thinks about losing the getup entirely: his fur has long since been drenched, the raincoat no longer serves any purpose but to weigh him down. But there's no way he can ditch the garb without first letting go of Pikachu.

 

The churning waters roar all around them, surrounding the two in a whirlpool they can't escape from. Meowth can see the Twerps' boat, and even Jessie and James's boat farther out at sea, but now they're so far away, there's no way they'll be able to make it there on their own. The cat leans his weight on the dome, its mild flotation the only thing keeping him above the water. His limbs burn with all the energy he's wasted, so much so that he can barely move them.

 

Pikachu sees his exhaustion. He puts his paws on the glass in an attempt to try and grab hold of Meowth's arms, to make sure Meowth won't let go. Meowth meets his gaze, and can't help but smile sweetly at Pikachu's efforts.

 

A thunderous rumbling catches their attention. The two swivel their heads to find the source, and immediately feel their stomachs drop at the sight. The water around them swells together just behind them, growing bigger and bigger and bigger with every passing second until it forms a colossal tsunami of a wave.

 

Meowth can only gulp. “Well, pal... I guess this is goodbye...” He whimpers.

 

“ _Don't say that; we-we'll be fine!_ ”

 

“That's easy for you to say...” There's no way in the whole wide world that they're going to escape their fate. Meowth can only hold on, and silently pray that he makes it out of this alive. Though he's still above the water, he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. “Pikachu, if I don't make it, I just want you to know that I love—”

 

He can't finish. The mammoth wave swallows them up before he can conclude.

 

The thousand pounds of water that slam into them nearly knock the air right out of Meowth in an instant. But he holds on. He holds on, even when they spiral out of control in the midst of a flurry of sea foam. He holds on, even when they sink farther and farther towards the dark depths. He holds on, even though his body does not want to anymore.

 

He screws his eyes shut, hanging on to the capsule with all of his might. His nails scrape against the glass, the only thing keeping him from losing his grip entirely.

 

But perhaps it isn't a bad thing if he lets go. Meowth is only weighing Pikachu down; if he lets go, the buoyancy of the dome prison will send him right back up to the surface, even despite the depths they have sunk.

 

It's not like he wants to. He's terrified. Of all the ways he could have imagined he would go, this is, without a doubt, his least ideal choice. But he can't swim anymore. He'll never be able to make it up to the surface on his own. And every second he stays clutched onto Pikachu's only solace is one more second the mouse spends in the threat of sinking with him.

 

An eternity passes before they stop spinning. Pikachu breathes deeply, safe in his protective capsule. The tossing around hasn't done him any favors, but at least he's safe.

 

Meowth opens his eyes slowly. Every second that passes, his lungs erupt in scorching flames. His chest convulses, his cheeks puff. And though the water stings his eyes with salt, he meets Pikachu's, his gaze weaker than Pikachu has ever seen it.

 

Pikachu gasps and heaves his breaths, looking frantically between the surface and Meowth. “ _Meowth! Meowth, you... you need to let me out of here!_ ” He pleads, his voice echoing against the glass. “ _Please! I-I can help you help you swim—just let me out!!_ ”

 

The cat only responds with a saddened look. One that disappears into a face of pain when he's hit with another agonizing convulsion. Pikachu pounds his fists on the glass, trying and trying with whatever power he has to keep Meowth conscious. But all he can do is watch Meowth's face turn from peach to crimson to mauve.

 

“ _Meowth, please!!_ ”

 

He doesn't want to watch the cat drown right in front of him. But he can't do a thing. He wants to kick the latch of the capsule open, but it doesn't respond to his force. He wants to wrap his arms tightly around Meowth, as tight as he can possibly hold him, and swim back up to the surface with his friend in tow.

 

He wants to save him. But all he can do is watch.

 

Tears flood Pikachu's eyes as he watches the water flood Meowth's lungs. He trembles, clutching his paws to the glass, trying in vain to hold onto the cat as he begins to slip into oblivion. But he can't. He can't hold him. He can't grab his arms. He can't hold his hands or smack his face or envelop him in a tight embrace.

 

All he can do is watch.

 

Watch, as Meowth's grip slips from the capsule and he sinks.

 

But Meowth doesn't sink for very long. Something catches him. And that something catches Pikachu, too. It's too dark to make out what holds them, but whatever it is, it's fast and lean. It slips through the water like a fish, zooming through the depths at breakneck paces. Pikachu can see the light of the moon peering through the surface, getting closer and closer and brighter and brighter with each second that passes.

 

The three emerge from the watery depths with a big splash. Though Pikachu was in no immediate danger of drowning, he instinctively sucks in precious gulps of air like he has been deprived from it for years. And he hears another set of gasps, too. Ones deep and gurgled, and sweltering with wet coughs. Pikachu looks to his right towards the source, and sees Meowth. The cat coughs and sputters and gasps, but he's alive.

 

He's _alive_.

 

Pikachu only registers that their savior is Frogadier once he drags them up onto Ash's boat. The frog drops them to the floor, where Pikachu barely has time to catch his breath before Ash releases the digitized lock of the capsule and scoops him up into his arms.

 

“Pikachu! I was so worried...” Ash squeezes him as hard as he can, and Pikachu hugs back just as tight. But he can't help but twist around to try and catch a glimpse of his companion. Unfortunately, everyone else now chooses to crowd around him.

 

“Are you okay, Pikachu?” Bonnie asks curiously. Dedenne pops out of her pouch, repeating the same question, albeit, with much more worry. Pikachu only nods.

 

“That was really close,” Serena comments. “Gosh, I'd hate to think of what would've happened if we showed up any later...”

 

“Don't remind me,” Clemont shudders. “Let's just get out of here as fast as we can. Then we can check if Pikachu's hurt once we're out of the rain.”

 

“Hey! I almost kicked the bucket, too, ya know!”

 

The all turn at once. Meowth sits slumped on the pooling floor of the boat, exhausted beyond all measures, but still with enough strength to look annoyed about being ignored. Pikachu feels his heart leap at the sound of his accented voice gracing his ears.

 

“Yeah, but if it weren't for you, none of this would've happened to begin with,” Serena scolds.

 

“Maybe so, but I helped save Pikachu, didn't I?” Meowth retorts.

 

Bonnie purses her lips, tilting her head to the side as she hums in contemplation. “Hmm... I guess you kinda helped when Pumpkaboo saw you. The lights made it really easy to see where Pikachu was.”

 

Of course Meowth helped. In an off-putting, roundabout way, yes. But he helped save Pikachu from being lost at sea.

 

He... he didn't have to do that. Meowth didn't have to capture him and wave him around like a fair prize and drop him miles up shore without a paddle, that's for sure. But he didn't have to leap in after him, either. Meowth could have died trying to save him. And he almost did, right in front of Pikachu's eyes.

 

But he still came through. He held on, even when his life was on the line.

 

Without warning, Pikachu bounds off of Ash's shoulder and tackles Meowth into a tight hug. He buries his face into Meowth's chest, whispering thank-yous left and right while trying his best not to let out any tears. Meowth gasps, freezing at the sudden affection. But then he smiles softly, and returns the gesture.

 

“Gee... It was no problem, Pikachu,” He whispers.

 

They reach the miniature island with the mountain. Each of the kids and Pikachu hop off the boat and onto the rocky shore with relative ease. Meowth lags behind, still quite wobbly on his legs. He tries to climb off the boat, but his limbs give out and he slumps to the ground with a thump. He groans lowly in pain.

 

“What's your problem?” Serena questions.

 

Meowth slowly climbs to his feet, having to hold his arms out for balance. “Believe it or not, Twerpette, but nearly drownin' really takes a lot outta youse.”

 

“Well, can you walk?” Ash asks. Pikachu hovers close to Meowth, worried about the same thing.

 

“I, uh...” Meowth takes a tentative step. He doesn't get very far before he begins to stumble and fall. Pikachu catches him before he can hit the ground, and helps him back to his feet. “Thanks Pikachu—you're a peach.”

 

“I guess that's a 'no', then,” Bonnie says. “Want me to carry you?”

 

“No way!” Meowth retorts. “My life may have flashed before my eyes just now, but I still gots my pride, ya know!”

 

Pikachu nudges Meowth's arm. “ _I can help you walk,_ ” he suggests.

 

As expected, Meowth caves and melts into a puddle of putty in Pikachu's paws. “Gee, Pikachu—you'd really do that, _for me?_ ” He begins to tear up, and wipes the moisture away into the crook of his arm. “That's so generous a' you!”

 

Bonnie smirks. “Some pride.”

 

“Well, whatever the case, we should get out of this storm as soon as we can,” Clemont reminds. “I'm sure this mountain has some form of cave we can stay in.”

 

Meowth's mind suddenly thinks back to the debate on shelter he had just minutes ago. He goes rigid, swinging back around between the ocean and the twerps with panic written all over his face. “Wait! What about Jessie and James?! They're still out there!”

 

“I'm sure they'll find their way back here, soon,” Ash reassures.

 

“Yeah,” Serena sighs. “They always seem to show up when you least expect it.”

 

“Hey! Don't leave without us, Twerps!!”

 

As if the sudden mention had summoned the two Rockets from the depths of the sea, their boat rocks and sways across the crashing waves on the horizon, getting closer and closer the longer the twerps watch. They're rowing tirelessly, led by Pumpkaboo's light, splitting the waves in two with their oars. Their fiery determination can be seen a mile away.

 

Meowth's smile brightens. “Jessie! James!”

 

Their runabout gets caught in a sudden tide, and the two are powerless against its force. The wave carries the boat the rest of the way to shore, quite literally tossing them out. They scream, and the twerps and Meowth can only wince as they watch Jessie and James land unceremoniously in the gravelly sand. Wobbuffet pops out of his ball, inspecting his trainer in a mixture of curiosity and worry.

 

They aren't down for long, though. Faster than the twerps can register, Jessie and James spring up to their feet, barely noticing the coats of sand they now wear.

 

They stomp their way over to the group. Jessie snatches Meowth up into her arms with a furious pout, which softens the moment her eyes rest upon her pokemon colleague. Pikachu reaches out pitifully towards the cat, but retracts his paw when it's clear the two Rockets aren't going to give him back.

 

“Are you okay, Meowth?!” Jessie asks with a substantial amount of concern. “You had us worried sick!”

 

Meowth blushes at the endearment in her voice, and hugs her back. “Heh... 'Course I am. Youse two can't get rid a' me that easily.”

 

“Well—well next time, look before you leap!” James sniffles and his eyes glisten with tears, but he keeps it together and envelopes his team in a hug. Wobbuffet joins in soon after, wrapping his stubby arms around the two humans' legs.

 

“Aw, jeez, guys... Youse two keep cryin', then—” Meowth joins into the sniffle party, “—then _I'm_ gonna start cryin'—”

 

Pikachu can't help but giggle at the sound of Meowth's over-exaggerated sobs. He feels a bit warm and fuzzy watching Meowth's little family worrying over him so much—as they should, he can't help but think. It seems as though Jessie and James were as terrified over the cat's well-being as he was.

 

“N'aww... Team Rocket does have a heart!” Bonnie chides in, watching the spectacle before her with a growing smirk.

 

Jessie whips her head to the troop of twerps so fast that her hood flies off of her head, her scowl returning. “That's not a judgment for you little thieves to make!”

 

“Uh... Thieves?” Clemont tries to respond.

 

“That's right, Twerp— _thieves!_ ”

 

“Just who gave you the right to steal away our furry friend from us, I'd like to know!” James puts in.

 

“Steal? We didn't steal him, we _rescued_ him,” Ash responds.

 

“You sure you're not talking about yourselves?” Bonnie asks.

 

Serena nods in agreement. “If anything, you should be _thanking_ us.”

 

A deafening, cacophonous boom of thunder claps overhead, sending everyone leaping into the air. In the distance, the sky illuminates with a flash of jagged light.

 

Meowth's fur stands on end, and he unconsciously digs his nails into Jessie's raincoat. “Maybe we can worry about who stole who later—I, for one, vote we get the hell outta here!”

 

“M-me, too,” Clemont stutters out.

 

“Alright then, let's get moving,” says Ash. “C'mon, Pikachu!”

 

Pikachu's a bit reluctant to leave Meowth's presence, but he nods and takes the lead for the trek up the mountain.

 

* * *

 

They find a cave not too far up the mountain, quiet, vacant, and most importantly—dry. The two groups settle down and immediately build a fire to crowd around. Then the twerps unpack their camping supplies, including sleeping bags and warm blankets, as well as a few rations of food. The Team Rocket Trio stops in their squabbling around in making sure Meowth isn't going to catch a cold to look with longing eyes towards the twerps' bountiful treasures.

 

Each of the twerps take some time getting cozy in their blankets before they even notice their audience. Ash raises a brow. “Um... Aren't you three gonna bundle up? It's gonna be cold tonight.”

 

“We noticed, Twerp,” Jessie seethes through her chattering teeth.

 

“Unfortunately, we seem to have left all out winter coats and mareep-wool blankets back in our balloon,” James informs.

 

“So... You guys don't have anything?”

 

The three shake their heads. The Twerp Troop can almost see the cloud of pity raining down over their heads.

 

“Figures,” Bonnie sighs.

 

Clemont takes a break from unpacking his stored snacks to dig through his backpack. He finds what he's looking for in a matter of seconds, but comes up with a disgruntled look. “Well, I have an extra blanket, if you want it... But I only have one.”

 

“Well, why didn't you say so, earlier?” Jessie questions, eyes lighting up at the thought of warmth.

 

“You guys okay with sharing?”

 

“Oh, think nothing of it—we share things all the time!”

 

Meowth nods in agreement. “Clothes, perfumes, beds—the works. These two, especially.”

 

Jessie blushes and growls. “ _Can it_ , or you can sleep outside.”

 

Bonnie giggles.

 

Once the extra blanket is in their possession—as well as a few food items, as it's not long before it's discovered that they don't have anything to eat, either—the trio shed their drenched raincoats and wrap themselves into a tight cocoon. They scoot closer to the fire, inviting themselves into the twerps' circle of friends.

 

The air fills with an awkward pause; each of the twerps simply watch the three Rockets, a bit uneasy but more so perplexed about being so close and so hospitable to their enemies. Both groups know, but both try to make the best of the strange situation.

 

“Well...” James opens with a too wide, too friendly smile. “Isn't this a fun turn of events?”

 

“Well, it certainly is... interesting,” Clemont responds. It's clear to everyone how awkward he finds this situation, but he continues to be polite out of sheer good will.

 

“Yeah, interesting,” Serena agrees with the same hesitance.

 

“You're not gonna steal Pikachu away while we're all sleeping, are you?” Bonnie comes out with all the bluntness of a hammer. The three Rockets cringe simultaneously, cursing under their breath at the smallest twerp spoiling their plans.

 

“Of course not!” Jessie smiles, pearly whites shimmering with a mischievous gleam.

 

“We wouldn't _dream_ a' stealin' your cute little Pikachu away, after all you done for us,” Meowth adds with the same lack of sincerity. Though Pikachu has heard Meowth refer to him with such terms of endearment hundreds of times by now—at this point, Meowth doesn't even bother to try to filter them anymore—something about this time makes his cheeks grow especially hot.

 

Bonnie purses her lips, her eyes analyzing Meowth's every movement like a scientist watching lab rattata. She smirks just the slightest bit when she spots Meowth's gaze lingering on Pikachu for more than just a simple second. “You sure about that? You're kinda obsessed.”

 

Meowth's face reddens, and if he wasn't busy regaining all of his lost body heat in the cozy position he has wedged in between Jessie and James, he'd be on his feet pacing and ranting. “Hey, for your information, Twerpette—we've worked together with the Head Twerp thousands a' times before without problems, ever since he took his first steps as a trainer.”

 

Serena starts, almost jumping in her seat. “Wait, you've known each other for that long?” She asks, eyes wide as saucers.

 

“Of course we have,” James adds. “We're like his second, twice-removed troop of twerps. We're the ones who keep him so on-track. The ones who lead his way on the path to righteousness.”

 

Ash laughs and scratches the back of his head. “I'm not really sure about _that._ ”

 

“We've helped more times than we can count, though, Twerp,” Jessie counters. “More times than we oughtta be permitted.”

 

“All without stealin' your Pik-amigo, afterwards,” Meowth concludes with a self-fulfilling smile.

 

“Yeah, but if it isn't Pikachu, it's always some other pokemon that doesn't belong to you.”

 

“Well, that's all a matter of perspective,” Jessie says.

 

“What perspective?” Serena asks. “You steal other peoples' pokemon all the time. Just yesterday, you tried to take away my Fenniken and Clemont's Bunnelby.”

 

“Yes, yes, but that's beside the point.” Jessie waves her hand in the air dismissively. “We've taken plenty of pokemon who have no trainers at all, and yet you brats have the nerve to call it 'stealing'.”

 

“Yeah, but with the way you catch them, it might as well be,” Bonnie puts out.

 

“How so?” James asks.

 

“You always use some weird robot or trap or grabby hands to catch pokemon. You never use pokeballs, like you're supposed to.”

 

“Yeah, and what's it to you, Blondie? You ain't a trainer,” Meowth questions.

 

“You aren't, either. In fact, why _are_ you okay with stealing pokemon, anyways? Doesn't that bother you at _all_ , since you're a pokemon, too?”

 

Meowth waggles his finger. “Maybe, maybe not. I've already put in my two cents on the matter with Pikachu years ago.”

 

Pikachu perks up, trying to remember back to the conversation Meowth refers to. He recalls taking part in such a debate, but he mostly remembers the fight they got into. While he remembers Meowth's fluctuating, convoluted stance, most of his words are lost to the sands of time on account of the fact that Meowth went a couple insults too far in defending his points.

 

It's not a fond memory. It's definitely one of the lowest points of his and Meowth's relationship. Or... Whatever one could call their odd companionship.

 

Of course, none of the twerps, Ash, Jessie, and James included, were there to partake in the argument. So the six stare between the two, dumbfounded, questioning.

 

“Wait, you've talked to Pikachu about this before?” Ash asks. He looks down to his lap where Pikachu sits, eyes aglow with a curious gaze.

 

“That, among other things,” Meowth answers with a shrug.

 

“Well, when? What'd he say?”

 

“Yeah, Meowth—let us in,” James implores.

 

The cat huffs. “Nothin' youse humans need to know,” he responds. “We're allowed to have out private conversations, too, ya know. Ain't that right, Pikachu?”

 

He's a bit caught off guard by the sudden inclusion, but Pikachu stammers out a yes.

 

Bonnie giggles again. “You probably just spend all your time telling Pikachu how much you like him.”

 

Both pokemon redden. Meowth huffs again, turning his head away as he points his where-his-nose-would-be-if-he-had-one to the air. “I do _no such thing._ ”

 

“Uh-huh. You know, Meowth, I've been meaning to ask—why _did_ you start crushing on Pikachu, anyway?”

 

“I—”

 

He's almost rendered speechless. A spectacular feat, if there ever was one. And Pikachu leans in close, waiting not-so-patiently for an answer.

 

In truth, he had been wondering this too. Just what in the _world_ caused Meowth to come down with such a sickness that would cause him to develop feelings for _him?_ Pikachu is nothing special—just a chubby mouse who likes battling, nothing much to say. And they're so radically different; it seems as though every topic they speak of, their opinions contrast. One would think that with such a profound polarization, Meowth would want to stay as far away from the mouse as possible.

 

It becomes increasingly more difficult for Meowth to think up a diversion, as everyone in the small cave is well aware by now of the rampant feelings he holds for the mouse. But that doesn't mean he won't try.

 

“Well, who wouldn't be infat-ee-ated with such a charmin', delightful little cutie? Not that _I_ am. I'm just sayin' I can see why someone who's not me _would_ fall for him. A-and anyway, how can you be so sure it ain't the other way around, huh? How come you're never accusin' _Pikachu_ of fallin' head-over-heels for _me?_ ”

 

An obvious deflection, but Bonnie is willing to play along. “Gee, I don't know,” she shrugs and says with a voice that brims with mock-oblivion. “Hey Pikachu, how do you feel about all of this?”

 

Now the spotlight is on the mouse. Pikachu freezes, unnerved at the sight of so many peering eyes fixated upon him, patiently awaiting an answer.

 

Meowth watches anxiously from the crowd, heart beating a thousand times a minute within his chest. He gulps, only imagining what the response will be. In truth, he had been wondering such a question, too. How was Pikachu taking all of this? Did he like the cat back? Did he hate him? Somewhere in between, where it's a bit too complicated to explain? There are so many possibilities of answers, and Meowth gets more and more nervous thinking of each one.

 

Pikachu takes a breath, ears lowering to the back of his head. So many different conflicting thoughts and emotions race through his mind. Before tonight, Pikachu hadn't thought much of Meowth's little crush. He knows that he was surprised—outright dumbfounded, actually—that someone, especially someone like _Meowth_ , of all pokemon, could ever fall in love with him.

 

And how is he supposed to respond? It's _Meowth_ , of _all pokemon_. Meowth, the chatterbox, the one who learned to talk human and hasn't learned how to shut up since. Meowth, the wisecracker—funny at times, yes, but he rarely takes serious situations seriously. Meowth, the pokemon poke-thief, Pikachu's rival of over five whole years, the one that puts him through hell and back and makes Pikachu want to tear his own fur out. How is he supposed to respond to someone like _that_ , liking him?

 

On the other hand... Pikachu can only think back to earlier. Back in the Coumarine Ocean. Back spiraling helplessly underwater, trapped inside a glass capsule while Meowth clings on for dear life, slowly suffocating while Pikachu is powerless in preventing his demise. He felt something then. Something he's only felt a handful of times before in his life.

 

True fear.

 

True, unmitigated, unmistakable, absolute fear.

 

All over the possibility of losing Meowth forever.

 

If Meowth meant so little to him, then why is it that he felt so scared to lose him?

 

That has to mean something... right?

 

Pikachu mumbles a response, tone tainted with something akin to sadness and confusion. Meowth listens closely, his face turning from anxious to disheartened.

 

“Well... What'd he say?” Ash asks uncertainly.

 

“He said he don't know what to think no more,” Meowth translates. “He said that everythin' he thought he knew's all screwy and wrong now, and he don't understand a thing.”

 

Pikachu mumbles something else. The group collectively turns to Meowth for clarification.

 

He sighs. “He said love's a real cryptic thing, and he don't get why it's gotta be like that.”

 

“Awww....” Bonnie leans over towards Pikachu and brushes her hand along his back. The moment he feels her touch, Pikachu drops his distress and chirps in delight. “It's okay, Pikachu. Lots of people don't get love. Just look at my brother.”

 

“Thats—” Clemont's face reddens. He pushes his glasses up with his entire hand in an attempt to mask it. “I understand it, I-I just choose not to go after it, that's all!”

 

“Yeah, and these two bozos, too,” Meowth supplies. He jabs a finger at the two humans sitting next to him, who frown down upon him the second the words leave his lips. “Been hangin' around together longer than I've been alive, and not once have they got the guts to tell each other they love—”

 

Jessie and James both stuff Meowth's mouth full of their last chunks of bread, cutting off his remark. They both huff and try to hide away their blushes before turning back to the twerps, who watch in bafflement like they've just witnessed a comedy play.

 

James takes the initiative and breaks the silence. He grins widely. “Oh, that Meowth! Such an imagination he's got! Tell me, what were we talking about again?”

 

Bonnie looks around the cave at each of the people here. At Meowth and Pikachu, at Jessie and James, at Serena and Ash and Clemont. She smirks, then meets her furry companion's gaze and whispers to him, “Gee Dedenne—this whole cave's filled with lovebirds, isn't it?”

 

 

As it turns out, the Twerp Troop and the Team Rocket Trio can be quite civil and amiable when a raging storm traps them in a cave together. Most hostilities go out the door once they all come to terms with their situation, and once they finally grow used to each others' presence, so does the discomfort.

 

Two opposing forces become one, gathered around the fire as if they were simply on a friendly camping trip together. They laugh and smile and share food, and Ash and Team Rocket enamor the other twerps with the tales of old. Somehow, the topic of conversation shifts back as far as their early days in Kanto, where Ash and Pikachu first started out, and when Team Rocket was little more than a day-to-day nuisance.

 

“And just when we thought things couldn't get any worse, Team Rocket shows up on _unicycles,_ ” Ash concludes in a dramatic aura. The other twerps erupt in a cacophonous boom of laughter.

 

“Wait, _what?_ ” Serena manages.

 

“Yeah, that's what I was thinking!” Ash and Pikachu shortly join into the party of guffaws. The trio simply frown.

 

“Hey, Twerp, I'll have you know that riding a unicycle is a lot tougher than it looks!” Jessie tries to defend her honor.

 

“Especially in the rain!” James adds.

 

“Yeah! I'd like to see _you_ try to leap over a closin' bridge with just one wheel,” Meowth challenges. “We almost drowned 'cause a youse twerps back then, too!”

 

“Well, that was your fault,” Ash shrugs. “I didn't force you to do that. You went out in the rain all on your own.”

 

A small bead of sweat rolls down Jessie's forehead. “Ah-heh, it was... kind of a dare.” She suddenly sits up straight in her spot, sending her two teammates sprawling to their backs. “ _Anyway,_ even if we weren't in your way of your medicine delivery, you had no right using our heads as stepping stones! You nearly gave me a concussion!”

 

James pushes himself back off the ground. “And your friends nearly sent me back to the early years with how hard they knocked my noggin!”

 

Meowth simply shrugs. “I just didn't make it.”

 

“Again,” Serena readjusts her position in her sleeping bag. “That was all you.”

 

“Yeah, you didn't have to be out there,” Bonnie agrees. “You just stuck your noses where they didn't belong.”

 

“Oh yeah? And what about all the other times the Twerp's blasted us off for no reason?” Jessie counters. “We did nothing wrong, and yet he and his posse send us flying.”

 

“Yeah, but you were about to,” Ash retaliates. “You're always up to something, even when you say you're completely innocent.”

 

“Not true! Remember that great big snorlax that was blocking the waterway to that one town? We helped out, with no strings attached!”

 

“You wanted to steal that snorlax! We just helped you because we thought you might be able to get it to move.”

 

“Yes, well _you're_ great plan was to get a 'noble' pokemon to _kiss it_ awake.”

 

“That was _your plan._ ”

 

“Oh—heh, right.” Jessie smiles sheepishly before leaping back to her passionate argument. “Anyway, who in their right mind sends a psyduck as a noble pokemon? That's as un-noble as you can get!”

 

“Yeah, well your bright idea was to have _Meowth_ kiss him. I'd say _that's_ pretty un-noble,” Ash counters smugly.

 

Bonnie and Serena's hands fly to their mouths in shock, and Clemont nearly becomes a rigid red statue. Pikachu's ears perk, burning the slightest bit.

 

“Oh my gosh...” Serena mumbles, her eyes wide. She tries not to let her look of bewildered amusement show through her fingers.

 

“Yee-uck...” Meowth gags and shudders, a look of horror plaguing his features. “Don't remind me a' that big lummox... I can still taste his mornin' breath...”

 

James puts a comforting hand on Meowth's back. “Oh, but you have to admit: that outfit you had on was pretty stylish.”

 

“One of your best ever, I'd say,” Jessie agrees, with the same mocking sweetness.

 

“You're just sayin' that 'cause you was the ones who made it...” Meowth mumbles.

 

“ _It was kinda cute, actually..._ ”

 

Meowth swivels around to meet Pikachu's gaze with enough speed that the others think his head might just screw off of his neck. He stares with wide eyes in disbelief. “Wait—you thought it was— _that's_ why you was starin'?!”

 

Pikachu gives a slight nod, looking away shyly. He remembers Jessie and James trying to contain their boisterous laughter at the situation, and Ash, Misty, and Brock trying not to gag at the events about to transpire. But Pikachu also remembers the costume Meowth wore. How it happened to be kind of adorable, and, well—noble. A true Prince Charming, if there ever was one to come out of Team Rocket.

 

Meowth blushes and fiddles with the corner of the blanket. “Well, I... I guess I _was_ pretty cute...” He shakes his head. “But cute or not, that kiss was one a' the most embarrassin' and disgustin' things I ever did in all a' my nine lives!”

 

Serena laughs. “Really? I thought you woulda been okay with it, seeing as how you and snorlax are both cat-like pokemon.”

 

“You kiddin' me? I'd rather kiss _Pikachu_ than lock lips with another snorlax!”

 

It's no shock, and yet everyone goes silent. Pikachu looks downright flabbergasted; his cheeks turn the darkest shade of crimson any of the twerps have ever seen. It takes a moment for Meowth to realize what he has just confessed, and when he does, he's paralyzed with dread.

 

Jessie breaks the silence. “Yeah, we're aware.”

 

A smile plays on Bonnie's lips, the innocent glimmer in her eye now a mischievous gleam. “Then prove it.”

 

“Say what?” Meowth utters out.

 

She sits up. “I don't think I believe you,” She clarifies. “You should prove that you'd kiss Pikachu before kissing a snorlax.”

 

“Or _what?_ ”

 

“Or we'll go back to Camphrier Town and make you kiss the snorlax there,” Bonnie grins. Though she's such a young thing, all of Team Rocket suddenly get the feeling that she's secretly evil. “I know you'll follow us wherever we go.”

 

“You wouldn't...”

 

“A-alright, that's quite enough, Bonnie,” Clemont stammers out, covering Bonnie's mouth before she can utter out another word. He chuckles nervously, his shoulders racking with each laugh. “She's just being funny—don't mind her!”

 

Jessie and James stare for a moment, then share a look. Wicked grins cut across their faces.

 

“You know, I think the Fun-sized Twerpette has a point.” James taps his index finger to his chin, idling in contemplation. “I don't think I quite believe you either, Meowth.”

 

“Huh?!” Meowth turns back to his friends, his fear meeting James's smugness. “What're you doin', sidin' with the twerps?!”

 

“She's right, you know—a little proof wouldn't hurt,” Jessie agrees. Then, when she's sure her face is angled in a way that the twerps can't see but Meowth can, she gives a sly wink.

 

He knows what they're doing. He knows they're simply playing along to the Tiny Twerpette's ploys in an attempt to get him closer to his goal of winning over his love. And it's appreciated, without a doubt. Had Meowth not been surrounded by a troop of twerps, he'd be in tears over their support.

 

But he is surrounded by a troop of twerps. And they're all staring at him, waiting for his next move. Meowth's blood drains from his face, his body goes rigid. His eyes shift to Pikachu, hoping for some way out of this predicament. He hopes to see Pikachu's reluctance, something he can point out to the others to make them reconsider their demands. Though he wants to kiss Pikachu so badly, something about doing it in front of so many peering eyes sends shivers down his spine and a sinking feeling through his gut.

 

But Pikachu stares with some degree of expectancy, too. A bit stunned, shocked, surprised at such a suggestion, yes. But he doesn't look... disgusted, nor hesitant in any way. Rather, it looks as though he's trying mentally prepare himself for it.

 

Meowth hates to give in, especially to so many twerpish humans. But he'll do it.

 

“Alright. You want your proof so bad? Fine—I'll give it to ya.” Meowth gets up to his feet in one smooth movement, and marches toward the mouse. "Pucker up, Pipsqueak, 'cause you ain't gettin' this chance again.”

 

He doesn't wait for Pikachu to respond. He just cups Pikachu's plump, round cheeks in his paws, admiring his perfect tawny eyes for a second, before smashing his lips against the mouse's.

 

He expects a protest. He expects a push or a shove or a Thunderbolt to fry him from the inside out. He expects literally _anything_ from the mouse that's _not_ what he's receiving. But instead... Meowth's almost sure he can feel Pikachu kissing _back_.

 

It's sloppy, and amateurish, and all around clumsy. But Meowth can literally feel fireworks sparking between them, warm as a Thunderbolt, calm as a Heal Bell. He wants the moment to last forever; he wants to look into Pikachu's eyes again and see him with the same passionate longing that he feels. But he knows he has to let go.

 

Meowth finishes the kiss with an over-exaggerated “ _Mwah!_ ” and tries to stand away, cool and aloof, like his mind isn't racing with a million thoughts. Pikachu lets out an airy sigh, and when Meowth sneaks a glance at him, he's sure he can see hearts dancing in the mouse's eyes.

 

Meowth turns to the others, who all stare in shock. He huffs. “There. There's your proof.” He fights the growing grin on his face, opting instead to clutch at his arm and cast his gaze to the floor. “That good enough for ya?”

 

Pikachu sighs again. “ _Perfect..._ ”

 

* * *

 

One measly kid's blanket was never meant to fit two fully grown adults and one small cat all at once, and it only becomes more apparent when the big blue blob decides he wants to sleep next to his trainer instead of in his ball.

 

Meowth groans, pulling himself away from the group so he can avoid suffocating in their crushing embrace. Instantly, he shivers. The rain outside has lessened now to a gentle drizzle, but the air is just as frigid. He sighs. Well... It's not like he wanted to sleep tonight, anyway.

 

He yawns and stretches his limbs, gazing lazily around the makeshift camp. The fire dwindles on a few lowly sticks, but has otherwise met its unfortunate demise. Everyone's fast asleep, reveling in their own personal dream lands. While he doesn't know the exact time, Meowth knows they all stayed up well into the hours of the morning, simply laughing and reminiscing about the adventures of old.

 

Meowth sighs and tosses a few more twigs that have since blown into the cave to the dying embers. He hugs his arms close to his chest, tail wrapping around his legs in an attempt to retain as much heat as he can. His attempts are futile, however; even the friction that comes with rubbing his arms raw does nothing to warm him up.

 

Suddenly he regrets ever moving from his position between his teammates; he may have been slowly smothered to death, but at least he wasn't erupting in goosebumps. Now his spot is lost to Jessie and James's unconscious cuddling.

 

With another groan, he opts to quit watching his friends sleep and instead try and watch the moon. Sure it's cloudy outside, what with the pouring rain, but perhaps a bit has cleared up by now? He won't know until he goes to investigate.

 

As soon as he finds his way to the front of the cave, though, Meowth freezes in his tracks. His heart pumps madly as he trembles, staring ahead at what transfixes him so.

 

He's not the only one who seems to be having trouble catching Z's. Out by the entrance, shielded from the rain by the cave's rocky awning, Pikachu sits peacefully.

 

The mouse takes notice of the subtle footsteps approaching. He turns his head to see who plans to meet him, and immediately looks away, trying to pretend like he didn't see Meowth there. But he definitely did. Meowth can tell by the sudden tenseness in Pikachu's rigid tail, the fur that sticks up from his skin and stands on alert.

 

And he, too, is tense. How could he not be, after what transpired today? From nearly drowning right in front of Pikachu, to kissing him on a _dare,_ of all things—it's the most violent mood swing he's ever ridden. How could he even convey any sense of feelings, after all of _that?_

 

Then again... All of that and more was done by the Twerps' observing, each of their movements carefully scrutinized and analyzed by both Pikachu's posse and Meowth's team. And Meowth only now realizes how exhausting that constant watching is; having a chance to talk to Pikachu, alone, without having to include any other, is a gift sent by the heavens, one Meowth doesn't immediately realize in his initial startlement.

 

With a gulp, Meowth takes another step forward. He walks slowly, silently, until he reaches Pikachu's side, and sits down beside him. Not too close—in fact, he's a bit too apprehensive to have any less space than two feet between them—but close enough so that it's impossible for Pikachu to not take note of his presence.

 

“C-can't sleep too, huh?” Meowth starts in a hushed tone, wringing his paws together. His eyes flit anxiously between the pouring rain and his companion, nervously awaiting a response.

 

“ _Uhm... Yeah,_ ” Pikachu replies, even quieter than Meowth. He meets Meowth's gaze once, then looks to the floor, developing a sudden interest in the growing puddle of water seeping into the cave. “ _I, uh... I have a lot of things on my mind..._ ”

 

“I betcha do.” Meowth's chest feels so tight, almost like it's hard to breathe. But he can breathe just fine; it's his heart's fluttering that's causing such a discomfort. He knows exactly what things are on Pikachu's mind; the same thoughts that flood his head, as well. “I've been, uh... thinkin' 'bout the same things.”

 

Pikachu gives a nod of understanding, but still refuses to make eye contact.

 

“Hey, um... I'm real sorry about earlier,” Meowth apologizes sheepishly. “Probably shoulda checked if that was okay with you—guess I was kinda caught up in the moment, heh...”

 

“ _No—you—it's fine._ ” Pikachu shakes his head. “ _You helped me clear up a lot of things._ ”

 

The cat's eyelids flutter in surprise. “I did?”

 

“ _Yeah... Before tonight, I was really on the fence about everything,_ ” Pikachu explains. “ _I didn't really know how to feel about... this whole thing. It was just too weird, and it didn't really make sense._ ”

 

“Really?”

 

“ _Yeah. But then tonight... When we were out in that storm, and I thought I was gonna lose you, and... I didn't realize how much that would_ _ **scare**_ _me. And then afterwards, I was just so happy to see you alive, I didn't wanna leave your side. And that was when things started making less sense than they did before.”_

 

“Wow...” Meowth mumbles. “You... you really cared about me that much?”

 

“ _Of course I did! I thought you were going to die trying to save me! I was terrified!_ ” Pikachu protests. “ _I... I just... Don't ever do that again, okay?!_ ”

 

“Alright, alright!” Meowth puts his paws up in a form of passive defense. “That's... That's really sweet a' you, though... Carin' for me like that...”

 

Meowth sniffles and bites his lip, trying his best not to let the waterworks take hold of him again. Upon hearing such a reaction, Pikachu finally turns towards him. “ _Of course I care... Why wouldn't I?_ ”

 

He meets Pikachu's gaze. “Well, we... we ain't exactly friends,” Meowth mumbles sadly.

 

“ _Sure we are._ ”

 

“Huh?”

 

Pikachu scoots a bit closer, sits up a little straighter. “ _Maybe we're not the ideal pair of friends, but we can hang around each other without tearing each other's throats out. And with our 'situation', I think that's a good start. Besides, I like it when you're around. When it's just us._ ”

 

“Really?”

 

“ _You helped me with a lot of things. Not just like physical things, but... with things about myself, too. I don't know how you did it, but... you made me realize things about myself that I don't know if I ever woulda known if you weren't here,_ ” Pikachu concludes. “ _If that doesn't classify us as friends, then... I don't know what does._ ”

 

Meowth nods; something he definitely has never considered. But in truth, he sees what Pikachu is getting at, and though the idea of helping someone who's not himself disgusts him, he can't fight the warm tingly feeling that fills his innards. It feels good to be of assistance, almost rewarding—especially when the recipient is the ever-gracious Pikachu.

 

And Pikachu has helped him out, as well. Even when he doesn't deserve the help. Even when Pikachu knows Meowth is lying right through his teeth, right to his face. He has helped him with problems as minute as a growling stomach to as major as an emotional breakdown. And not once has Pikachu gone back to say that he regrets helping. That's just the kind of pokemon Pikachu is—altruistic as can be, just for the sake of being altruistic. And Meowth can't help but admire that.

 

“Guess you're right,” he says, and smiles. “It's nice to finally be able to call us at least that.”

 

Pikachu smiles, too. But then it fades. “ _But... You wanna be more than just friends._ ”

 

“Well, I, uh—that's just a hypothetical scenario, that's all.”

 

The mouse sighs. “ _You know... For how often you lie to everybody, you'd think you'd be at least a little good at it. But you're_ _ **terrible.**_ ”

 

“Hey, I can still fool _you_ , can't I?” Meowth playfully shoves at Pikachu's arm, just enough to nudge him.

 

Then his own shoulders slump. He supposes that, now that the cat's completely out of the bag and on the plane to Alola, there's literally no use in pretending differently anymore.

 

“...Oh who am I kiddin'? I'm crazy 'bout you,” he sighs. “Every night, I keep thinkin' about you, and thinkin' what it'd be like if we weren't enemies. If things were different. If we met under different circumstances, and all a' this could work out. And I just keep thinkin'.... how happy we'd be together.”

 

Meowth's eyes shine like the stars. As he speaks, his words play a harmonic melody through Pikachu's ears so beautiful he nearly sheds a tear. Pikachu finds himself caught up in the hopeful, inspiring feeling, too. Then it fades again.

 

“But... I guess that ain't happenin'...” Meowth concludes. “Not as long as we keep goin' on like cat and mouse for the rest a' our lives.”

 

“ _Guess you're right..._ ” Pikachu agrees.

 

“But... It don't gotta be that way, you know.”

 

Pikachu perks up, tilting his head to the side.

 

“Maybe... You can ditch the twerps and join up with us,” Meowth suggests. “I'm sure I could convince the boss to let us be partners. And I think you'd really like it, workin' for Team Rocket!”

 

Pikachu frowns. “ _I can literally think of a_ _ **thousand**_ _reasons why I wouldn't like that._ ”

 

The cat pipes down again, but can't resist a slight chuckle. “Wishful thinkin'.”

 

They stay silent for a bit, watching the rain patter down.

 

“Well maybe...”

 

Pikachu turns to look at Meowth, hope brimming in his stomach.

 

“...Maybe I could join up with youse.”

 

“ _A-and leave Team Rocket?_ ”

 

Meowth nods. “I'd do it. I could change my ways.”

 

Pikachu's heart flutters a million beats a minute. And now images of his own creation flood his mind. Images of him and Meowth traveling together by Ash's side; battling beside him, working together to help the people of the world. Meowth supporting him in his dream to become the very best—Pikachu can picture just how passionate and vigorous Meowth would be, had he been cheering for him from the sidelines. And he, too, would support Meowth in whatever kind of career he chooses to pursue: whether it be the pokemon-to-human translator the world so desperately needs, or one of the cat's many other talents, like showbiz.

 

And that's not even the best part. The best part is that they'd finally be together. Their rivalry would be a thing of the past that they could laugh about and reminisce like they did just an hour ago. No more tricks, no more fooling around, no more capture-with-weird-device-then-Thunderbolt-into-the-sky nonsense. They'd be together. Friends. Best friends. Even... Even more than that.

 

Pikachu can picture it all, and he realizes just how _badly_ he wants that. He wants to see Meowth everyday—not as enemies, but as allies. He wants to wake up to the sight of Meowth sleeping peacefully beside him. He wants to hold his hand and keep him close and kiss him and share so many wonderful times with him.

 

He wants that so badly.

 

But the disgusting voice of his conscience calls to him again, reminding him of his foolishness. And he can't help but believe what it speaks, because in his heart he knows it's right.

 

He sighs. “ _Please don't lie to me again..._ ”

 

“Huh?”

 

“ _You always say you're gonna leave... You always say you're gonna change your ways and help us,_ ” Pikachu goes on solemnly. “ _But you always end up back with them._ ”

 

Meowth opens his mouth to respond, but Pikachu beats him to it.

 

“ _A-and I just can't... I can't go through another one of your lies..._ ” he chokes out, tears fighting their way to the rim of his lids. “ _I can't go through another one of your betrayals... Do you even know how much that hurts?_ ”

 

“I, um...”

 

“ _And I get it. They're your friends. They're important to you. I can't ask you to leave them... for me,_ ” he concludes. “ _I just wish you wouldn't pretend like you would..._ ”

 

Meowth slumps his shoulders, his ears flattening to the back of his head. He knows Pikachu's right. So many lies through all the years he's seethed through his teeth. So many times he's played with Pikachu's emotions and trust. And honestly, Meowth is impressed with how well Pikachu takes it all. If it were him being lied to every day of every month of every year, he'd have snapped a long, long, long time ago. He doesn't know how Pikachu can do it—to stay so close to a backstabbing cheat, and yet still have the will to call that hack his friend.

 

Though, it's not like he hasn't tried to turn a new leaf before. So many times, he's tried to leave Jessie and James; to pursue his own love, his own happiness, his own goals—literally every self-centered, laughable, unrealistic thing he can think of. And every time... he ends up back where he started.

 

Not that he thinks it's a bad thing; he loves Jessie and James. He can't even fathom the idea of having to live without them by his side. But he's a fool if he thinks he could ever attain such niceties in his lifetime, with or without them. An absolute, starry-eyed, naive _fool_.

 

Meowth exhales a long, continuous breath, watching the air he breathes out as it accumulates into a misty cloud in front of him. “I'm sorry...”

 

Pikachu turns his head.

 

“It probably don't mean much now, but...I'm sorry for everythin'...” he goes on. “I never _meant_ to hurt ya, I just... I was just tryin' to do my job. And I ain't even very good at it, either.”

 

He sighs again.

 

“But you deserve better than that... You deserve better than me... I get it... if you don't wanna trust me. I probably lied to you so many times, you can't even trust what I'm sayin' right now.”

 

Pikachu idly nods.

 

“I'm sorry...” Meowth whispers again. He looks to the ground, idly tracing the border of the rainwater puddle with his eyes. He was afraid it would come to this. “Guess we're at an impasse.”

 

The rain nulls the silence, but it's barely enough to alleviate the conclusion they've come to. Meowth would never leave Jessie and James behind, just like Pikachu would never leave Ash in the dust. As long as they continue on this vicious cycle, their dream of ever ending up together is dead in the water.

 

And he hates it. Meowth hates that his own shortcomings are the reason his vision is dead. All of his insecurities, all his defenses—they prove to be nothing but hurdles that trip him and send him tumbling, straining towards that goal line that lies wavering miles away in the distance. All because he's the one who's scared. He's scared to leave the safety of crime, scared to leave the warmth and assurance the organization has given him.

 

And it shouldn't be that difficult. He knows Pikachu and his posse will welcome him with open arms. They've put up with each other for almost their entire careers. They've argued and fought, but they've also loved and appreciated. Just tonight, every bean has been spilled, the game has been given away. Everything has come clean, and the results are in: Meowth is in love with Pikachu, and Pikachu, to his surprise, feels the same about Meowth.

 

By all accounts, that should be the answer to everything. Each and every problem should be solved after learning about such confessions. But Meowth is stubborn. He doesn't know when to quit, even when continuing on will lead him to nothing but pain and misery. He lies, and cheats, and steals, to anybody and everybody. He doesn't stop for his friends, and he sure as hell doesn't stop for his love.

 

Of course he feels crummy about what he's done. Of course his past wrongdoings have attacked him in the middle of the night, sending him spiraling in a whirlpool of his own guilt, pulling him down deeper and deeper until he can no longer see the light. The more Meowth thinks about it, the more he wonders why _anybody_ puts up with him at all.

 

An old friend once told him that there is no such thing as a bad pokemon. But Meowth is certain that he's the sole exception.

 

And suddenly, that realization hurts more than any attack or any insult ever could.

 

But then again... Meowth knows following this trail of crushed dreams and unending failure is unhealthy. He knows it will only bring him more unhappiness. If he left Team Rocket, left it for good, then... then maybe, just maybe, he might be able to find that happiness he's searched so long for.

 

It's worth a shot. The vicious cycle he rides is repetitive, predictable—boring, even. Meowth knows the ending to the story before it even begins, and that ending will never, never change, no matter how much effort he puts in or how much he spices up the routine. But the new course is enticing, and though the journey from one ride to the other is filled with nothing but jagged rocks and raging rivers, he can see it shining in the distance.

 

Love is the biggest motivator in his life, his own personal driving force. If he was able to reinvent himself completely before by following love's alluring melody, then surely a change of morals and actions now would be a cinch, right?

 

“But...”

 

Pikachu looks up again.

 

“I... I wanna get better,” Meowth says. “I wanna _be_ better. I wanna quit lyin' to you. 'Cause you deserve better than that, and I—I wanna change. I wanna change into somethin' that you deserve.”

 

The words render Pikachu speechless. He feels something throbbing tirelessly inside of him, and only when he registers what Meowth is actually saying does he realize that it's his heart. “ _Are—are you serious? You're not just saying that?_ ”

 

“I mean it! I-I steered you wrong in the past, but—I really mean it this time!” Meowth sits a bit straighter, whiskers quirking with every subtle shift in his face as he grins. He seems nervous about what he says, reluctant. Not a single fiendish sparkle dances in his keen eye. Just from that, Pikachu knows he speaks with truth.

 

“ _Y-you'd really do that... for me?_ _But—but what about Jessie and James?_ ”

 

“Maybe—” Meowth ponders for a moment, “—maybe I can get 'em to change, too. Th-then we could leave Team Rocket, a-and we could all be happy, and—”

 

“ _Together?_ ” Pikachu finishes.

 

Meowth smiles. “Yeah,” he agrees, tears prickling his eyes. “I wanna do that for you, Pikachu... do you think I could do it?”

 

The mouse shares his grin. “ _For you—anything's possible._ ”

 

Pikachu scoots closer and closes the gap between them. He leans his head on Meowth's shoulder, relishing in his warmth and softness. Meowth breathes a small gasp of surprise, but eventually returns the gesture and leans his own head against Pikachu's. A small, affectionate purr escapes him, which normally he'd be so embarrassed to have let happen, but he's so infatuated with this moment he hardly even notices.

 

He opens his eyes again, and catches Pikachu staring ahead at the sky. Meowth follows his gaze, and gasps at what he sees. The clouds, though still ever-present, have cleared up just a bit, revealing the big, bright, silvery moon. Its warm light brightens the world before them like a ray of sunshine in the black abyss, seeping into the cave's dark crevasse and embracing the two with loving arms.

 

Meowth can hardly contain the smile on his face, and nearly feels tears coming on once he feels Pikachu's soft, small fingers curling around his own. He's looking at the same moon, Meowth knows; with the same enchantment, and the same fascination that he feels every time he gazes upon it.

 

“ _It's so beautiful,_ ” Pikachu says.

 

Meowth nods softly, his cheek brushing against Pikachu's silky fur. The corners of his lips pull upward, a light bulb going off in his head for a romantic pick-up line. “Yeah... And you know what else is?”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“You.”

 

For a moment, Pikachu is silent, reveling in the words. Then, he erupts in laughter.

 

“ _That is the_ _ **corniest**_ _thing I've ever heard you say!_ ” He giggles, nuzzling his face against Meowth's shoulder.

 

Meowth grins, and can't help but laugh too. Now that he thinks about it, that line _was_ pretty corny—even for a sappy romantic like himself. “But it's true.”

 

The chuckling comes to a slow stop. After he catches his breath, Pikachu looks up to Meowth, admiring the way the luminescent light of the moon cascades upon his visage, showering him in an ethereal glow. Meowth notices his staring not too long after, and turns to meet his gaze. Once he faces him completely, Pikachu presses a quick and tender kiss upon the cat's lips.

 

And there Meowth goes again, falling into that same familiar dial-tone of stupefaction. “W-w-what was that for?” he stammers out, entire face flushed in crimson.

 

“ _I just..._ ” Pikachu chews on his lip, feeling sheepish, himself. But he forces himself to meet Meowth's eyes. “ _I just wanted to know what it felt like... one more time._ ”

 

The cat softens, the smile he gives absolutely enchanting. “N'aww, jeez...” Meowth leans his head against Pikachu's once again. “You're such a sweetheart.”

 

They sit for what feels like hours, curled up cuddling in their collective heat, watching the moon serenade the rainy night sky. Neither speaks a word, almost as if afraid that their vocal intrusions could potentially destroy the tranquility the earth has so graciously given them. So they sit and watch, with their fingers laced together and their tails intertwined.

 

Pikachu is so important to him, Meowth realizes. He doesn't know how that has come to be or what peculiar spell he has been put under, but Meowth suddenly knows just how much he cares for him. He wants to see Pikachu happy. He wants to be by his side. He wants to end this game they play, even if the game is so addicting.

 

Meowth loves him, he soon realizes. He loves him so, and so help him, he'll do anything for him.

 

And so he'll try. Meowth will try his best to give up the chase. Give up his thieving, give up his trickery, give up his unhealthy lifestyle. It's possible—it's possible because Pikachu believes it's possible, and Pikachu will be waiting patiently for him to accomplish that goal. It will be difficult, challenging, downright arduous; but if Pikachu believes in him, then Meowth knows he can accomplish anything.

 

And one day, he knows, he and Jessie and James will quit the game they've played so vehemently. They'll all quit their addiction and see the light. And then... then he can finally be there with Pikachu, without the guilt of leaving his family behind. Right beside Pikachu, with no strings attached, fingers laced and tails intertwined.

 

And that, Meowth knows, is something worth striving for.

 


End file.
